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Prophetic of Another Life. 




Author of "John Peters." 

v**' ■ "'^rf . 

Published in 1893. 

Jl/fVF & 1893 


Copyright, 1S93, 



Clark JV. Brya?i Company, 

Printers, F.lectrotypers and Binders, 

Springfield, Mass. 

In Remembrance of 

Friendships whose Shining has Dispelled 

the Darkness of many a 

Gloomy Day. 


Voyaging, 5 

Wave and Bird, 8 

Stanza and Sequel, 13-101 

The Bright Belief, 102 

Earth's Brightest Star, 105 

" Bright on Your Native Hills," 106 

" She Placed the Bitter-sweet," 108 

Always with Thee, no 

Through Grief, in 

" Too Many Hearts are Sad To-night," 113 

Blessings for the Helpful, " . 114 

The Forty-second, 115 

The Critics, 117 

The Retort, 118 

Reminiscences, 119-144 

My Native Land, 144 

The Sweetheart, 146 

For All Like Thee, 147 

"The Stars Have Heard," ....... 148 

"Come, Happy Bird," 148 

" Prize Thou Thyself," 150 


Petition, 152 

A Tribute, 153 

Into the Sunshine, ......... 155 

The Conflict, 157-167 

Thy Best Delight, . 168-169 

Thee and Thine, 17° 

William Williams, ' . . . . 17 1 

The Imperial, 172 

The Lesson of the Seasons, . . . . . . i73 _I 75 

The Equal Lot, 175 

Sic Itur ad Astra, 177 

An Urban Heaven, 180 

A Hero's Grave, • g^ lSl 

A Starlit Road, 182 

" Where tnc Noble have their Country," .... 183 

The Warrior, 186 

Victorious, 187 

"Thou art the Man," 188 

Nature's Moods, 189 

" Where Nature Reigns," 19 2 

Beyond, 198 

A Rose, 200 

Forever, 201 

Her Promise, 202 


Trial Days, 203 

That other Day and This, 205 

Zephy^; f 209 

Nectar, . 211 

Heart of Ice, 213 

A Wish, 214 

In Ambush, 215 

Tommy Trim, 217 

Uncharity, t 218 

" Joy Sings Serenely,'' 221 

Thy Benisons, 221 

Thou Shalt Discern, 222 

By Warring Well, • 223 

Forecasting, 224-228 


OTHOU benignant, ever wise, 
Since unto man 'tis given 
That he fare on, if kind the skies 
Or unpropitious Heaven, 

What joy that he may trust Thee still, 

Through calm or stormy tide, 
Conscious that winds obey Thy will, 

And Thou art pledged to guide 

The barque that every mortal sails 

Across the sea of time — 
That no one trusts in Thee and fails 

Of port in happiest clime 

Of that great continent where those 

Who sail shall landsmen be 
Awhile, and thence shall course — who knows 

The great untraversed sea ? 

But dream we even now and here, 
Entranced by plash of waves 


Which lapse this side the heavenly sphere, 
That lovelier ocean laves 

The other coast of that Unknown 

Than even he beheld 
To whom at Patmos things were shown 

That charmed the days of Eld. 

From earth that ocean is how far ? 

What barque that thither fares ? 
What islands in that ocean are ? 

Swept by what balmy airs ? 

What groves of fair pomegranates bless 

With exhalations sweet ? 
What warblers with their gladsomeness 

The island mornings gieet, 

As navies of the shining main 

Are wafted with the song 
And harpers of sublimest strain 

The rapturous theme prolong ! 


O beatific vision bright 

Of islands of that sea ! 
O day when faith shall change to sight 

And bring us there to be ! 

And from those islands mountains rise 
Wherefrom whose lenses sweep 

Still other continent descries 
And lovelier, vaster deep, 

With sweeter isles to gem the scene 
And, still beyond, a coast, 

A brighter sea to intervene ; 

And, with those waters crossed, 

Increasing still, the endless plan 
Of continents and seas — ■ 

\nd given for this quest of man 
The vast eternities ! 


TO those indued with power to see, 
And given an ear for minstrelsy, 
There's meaning high in every sound 
And every scene the wide earth round. 
The music of this lakelet's wave, 
That seems to some but meant to lave 
The shore, recede and surge again, 
Thought-freighted comes to thoughtful men, 
And, blending with the voice of bird 
In hymn as grand as ear hath heard, 
Shall cheer the pilgrim on his way, 
Inspiring him with faith to say — 
Night bringeth day, grief bringeth bliss • 
And never that, but cometh this! 

So, welcome grief in every form — 
The piercing blast, the whelming storm. 
Affliction's flail and busy mill, 
Its thorny path up rugged hill. 
Or desert sands to scorch the feet, 
Where torrid suns their fervors beat, 


Or barren, bleak and sunless plains, 
Where Doubt's grim winter monarch reigns ! 

Though well enthroned, that icy king 
Shall flee before Faith's radiant spring 
Of bud, and brook, and heavenly blue, 
And stars serene the sweet nights through- 
And fragrant hours of morn, to lead, 
Through flowery path, to pleasant mead 
And hills of hope, where Edens are 
Without a flaming sword to bar ; 
The hills whereon, from dawn to star, 
And from the star to dawn again, 
Angels descend to bring to men 
The sweetest message of the skies — 
Faith always true ; Doubt always lies ! 

Sing on, sweet bird, and lakelet sing, 
Through all the joyous days of spring ; 
And when shall glow the summer days 
With their intensity of praise 
For roses and the wheaten sheaf, 
And sign of corn and flaming leaf, 


. Then, for its seen and unseen worth, 
Sing praise to Him who made the earth, 

And in the time of frost and snows, 
When fierce the wrath of winter blows, 
Love's group around his cheerful fires 
Will sing the song that hope inspires, 
Whilst thou, sweet bird, in sunnier clime, 
Shalt sing, prophetic of the time 
When flowers and grasses shall again 
Delight each northern glade and glen, 
And waters of the lake and burn 
Announce, blithe bird, thy glad return 

But they who think, by power of song 
To urge the winter days along, 
Will find, however brave they sing, 
That Winter in his time is king. 
Yet, dulcet one, they can defy 
His fiercest wrath and coldest sky ; 
For, if some pilgrim needing rest, 
Should pray awhile to be their guest, 
And, heeding thine unselfish way, 
Spontaneous as thy roundelay, 


They give the weary needed cheer, — 
Though 'tis the wintriest of the year, 
To them their deeds of love shall bring, 
The breath and blossoms of the spring ! 

Songster, how well thy carols fit 
The teaching of an ancient writ, — 
That cometh bliss or cometh ban, 
To each, as each his fellow man 
Hath given all he could to bless, 
Or, spurning, left in want's duress ; 
That kindness to earth's humblest one 
Is unto Christ, the Master, done, 
Who meteth bounds for all the days, 
Whom all the seasons voice and praise ; 
The Christ who spake as never spake 
Or man, or bird, or burn, or lake, — 
Or rather told what all things tell 
To those who study nature well. 

Sweet wave and warbler, as ye sing, 
To me the Master's words ye bring — 
" To those in need, to me gave ye ; 
l To them refused, refused to me. 


If unto them ye gave but ill, 

Then bitterness your cup shall fill: 

Gave ye them good, that ye I give, 

And ask ye with your Lord to live 

Where ye, while heaven's long day shall burn, 

May all the bliss of blessing learn." 

Creator of the wave and bird. 
Inspirer of the Master's word, 
Aid me the earth to rightly see 
And thoughtful hear its minstrelsy, 
And learn and heed the teachings high 
Which all thy wondrous works imply — 
That they who bless their fellow men 
Shall reap their given good again ; 
That joy can ever be secured 
Through griefs in patient trust endured ; 
And, sweetest note of all the song, 
Faith always right, Doubt always wrong ! 



COMPANION of my boyhood 
And friend of all my years, 
Sublimely well enduring 

Woes all too deep for tears ; 
Responsive to your summons, 

I come to share your grief, 
To rhyme in reminiscence 

And sing a bright belief; 
Predicting you soon finding 

The dawn succeed the night, 
If thorns, likewise the roses, 

And after wrong the right ! 

Away from scenes of traffic, 
Away from business cares, 

In which you toil so bravely 
To kill the grief that wears, 

Only to find, in toiling, 
The work of no avail ; 


You come to ask of nature 
A balm that will not fail. 

Among the Berkshire mountains 
Where nature does its best 

To aid the tired and grieving 
With satisfying rest, 

You come, my loved Ethelbert, 

Sighing at every breath, 
Yet glowing with high purpose 

To battle to the death 
The griefs so fiercely gnawing 

The heart of one as brave 
As he, all uncomplaining. 

Imperiled land to save, 
Who risks amid red carnage, 

With willingness, his life, 
And ioys to be called worthy 

To perish in the strife. 

This excellence of patience 
Is foretaste, in the grief, 
Prophetic of fruition, 


Quick after the belief, 
That, tribulation suffered, 

With bravery and love. 
And faith that says the Father 

Sends trials from above, 
Grief's fiends shall flee, and angels 

Unlock the gates of light 
And usher in the morning, 

To follow sorrow's night. 

Ethelbert, near these mountains 

The hamlet of your birth, 
That seemed to you, in childhood, 

The loveliest spot of eartn: 
Where all the days of winter 

Were happy days lor you, 
However wild the drifting 

Of snowy storms that blew; 
And happy was the spring-time, 

And days of summer bloom 
Poured joys until for others 

Your heart had not the room. 


When fiercest heat was over, 

And on the pasture hill 
The steers, rid of their tackle, 

Were left to feed at will ; 
And orchards bent with pippins 

Around a buckwheat field 
That gave a fragrant promise 

Of an abundant yield, 
Delightful then your dreaming, 

As August waned away, 
When seemed the hours half summer, 

And autumn, still, the day. 

Then mornings all, and sunsets, 

To you were choicest gold, 
And days with joys were brimming 

As full as days could hold. 
Ah ! sweet and fairy valley ! 

Where birds and purling streams. 
Cascades and hill-side forests, 

Excelled your brightest dreams ; 
Where poet might sing sweetest, 


With scene above the psalm 
Affording hearts the saddest 
Sufficing rest and balm. 

And, still, to you, 'tis fiction 

To name the hamlet blest, 
Though there began your being, 

And there your kindred rest ; 
And there your days were halcyon 

With skies of peaceful hue, 
And seemed the good translated 
' No happier than you ! 
For there, a little later, 

The sadness must begin, 
The sweet of life turn bitter, 

Its melody be din ; 

And all its pleasant castles 

Be crumbled into dust ; 
And this, because they doubted 

Who should have given trust. 
Ah well do I remember, 


You had a darkened sky ; 
My angel of good blessing, 

Appeared to pass you by. 
The wreck of your ambitions 

It needeth not to tell ; 
For all the doleful story 

Your sad heart knows too well. 

Those words, " because they doubted 

Who should have given trust/ 7 '' 
O doubt, that quenches morning ! 

O doubt, to gold the rust * 
Was ever soul in sadness 

But through another's doubt? 
Was ever soul defeated, 

Suspicion caused the rout! 

Not winning in your wooing 
Nor famous for your pen, 


You still kept faith in heaven, 

Though losing faith in men ; 
And still lived ever noble, 

Or was it day, or dark, 
Your god appeased or frowning, 

A raven or a lark, 
Your bird ; and now, slow starving 

For joys of love, yet strong; 
Sad, almost unto dying, 

Yet, patient under wrong ! 


Fit praises thine for heroes ; 

Too high for men like me, 
My heart must still accept them 

For their sincerity. 
And thanking thee for giving 

The trust I needed long 
From others than Horatius, 

I ask of him a song; 
His own sweet, soul-felt, singing. 


To keep the hope alive, 
Which he. in tune with nature, 
Has made as;ain revive. 


The sweetest songsters carol, 

Among these Berkshire hills, 
In harmony with music 

Arising from the rills 
That flow with silvery murmur, 

In melody along, 
And charm as if in heaven 

They learned the art of song, 
And were by Him empowered 

Who formed the starry spheres 
And guides their rhythmic motion 

Through all the circling years. 

Bright brooks ! they came from heaven, 

To teach the tuneful art, 
And woo men from their sorrows 


And from their cares apart ; 
To teach them high behavior, 

And gentle ways and true, 
Inspiring them with courage 

To fight life's battles through; 
The while, through all the harshness 

That gives to earth its ban, 
They live attuned for living 

Where harmony began. 

There other brooks, in chorus 

With other birds, shall sing, 
To tell the power and goodness 

Of the Eternal King; . 
And welcome home the singers 

From dissonance of time 
To melodies of heaven 

And zephyrs of the clime, 
Where, with the golden city, 

Shall be the pleasant field ; 
The tree of life forever 

Its healthful fruitage yield; 


The hill-side and the forest, 

And rocky glen, be there, 
And highest angel escort 

Delight to give their care 
To those who come to study, 

In leisure of that land, 
The features of the country 

Which sin has never banned, 
May one among the number 

Be you who love the rills 
That carol with the songsters 

Among these restful hills. 

When rivulets with singing 

Have cheered Ethelbert's heart, 
May angel guide attend him, 

That, when he hence depart, 
He journey to the eastward, 

To hills that poet sung 
The grandeur of whose numbers 

Honors our English tongue. 
Inhaling rarest zephyrs 


To make the spirit strong ; 
With feet in tune with cadence 
Of Bryant's noble song, 

Which thou shalt hear repeated 

By tuneful brooks and birds, 
As if the bard walked with thee, 

To speak his own grand words, 
Ascend the heights o'erlooking 

The homes of Cummington, 
Ensconced below the hill-side 

Where Bryant's life begun. 
When thou hast done due worship 

Ascend still other height, 
And vale of rarest beauty 

Shall meet thy raptured sight! 

There sweet a shining river 

Flows singing to the sea, 
And purls with charming cadence 

Where smiling landscapes be, 
Gemmed bright with pleasant mansions, 


In form and look that seem 
The counterpart of castles 

That fill youth's brightest dream. 
There, sentineled by mountains, 

The vale its verdure spreads, 
When, cheering after winter, 

The May sun radiance sheds. 

Bright hues of flame and crimson, 

And wealth of dun and gold 
The hardy mountain beeches 

And valley maples hold, 
When frost and autumn sunshine 

Their chemistry have done, 
In glorious completion 

Of work the spring begun ; 
And there, within that valley, 

In other days, a scene 
That fills with choicest fragrance 

The years that intervene ! 

And that sweet scene shall ever 
The river, glade, and glen 


Invest with charms of romance, 

And witness unto men 
The bravery of a maiden, 

Who so could say "forgive," 
That one whom she deserted 

Bade the repentant live, 
And be his inspiration, 

A consort and a mate ; 
A token that kind heaven 

Would help him conquer fate, 

And ne'er did lordly courtier, 

The bravest and the best, 
On love's ennobling errand, 

From royal halls, in quest 
Of one to match the visions 

With which the gods inspire, 
Who with celestial courage 

The manly bosom fire, 
To do the grandest wooing, 

Find such transcendent worth 
As crowns the name of Lillian 

The brightest of the earth ! 


Thy loveliness, sweet valley, 

Which Metawampe guards, 
Hath now especial meaning 

Above the song of bards. 
Dear vale ! whose faithful maiden 

Rebelled against her kin, 
Until they bade him welcome 

Who sought her heart to win, 
That maiden's ways heroic 

Have made the sunrise shore 
Of thy majestic river 

Inspiring evermore ! 

Bright fairy-land, where angels 

Attend when lovers wait 
And aid the thoughts surpassing 

All else however great ! 
Their happy faces, mirrored, 

Reflect the thoughts of love 
Aglow upon the features 

Of each glad face, above 
The kindly waters, reading, 


In limpid river blue, 
That each heart loves the other, 
And will for life be true. 

Land of the sweet romances ! 

Therein, the legends say, 
Bright ministrants of heaven, 

On silver nights of May, 
Expectant in an arbor, 

Wait with the words that save 
From cowardice the lover 

And make the maiden brave ; 
And when the pledge is spoken 

To crown love's high emprise, 
They soar trom Metawampe, 

To tell the waiting skies ! 

In honor of the maiden 

Who, quenching one heart's hell, 
For two hearts made earth, heaven, 

The scene he bids me tell 
I sing, to cheer Ethelbert, 


To whom a fate unkind, 
Anent the noble passion; 

And if Ethelbert find 
The scene at Metawampe 

To him good omen brings., 
Thrice happy his companion 

Of Metawampe sings : 

While cheering light 
Of morning bright 
O'er eastern height is glowing. 

And choicest flowers 
In any bowers 
Or any landscape growing, 

Their sweets exhale, 
To fill the gale 
Soft on the valley blowing. 


Thou sweetest bird 
Mine ears have heard, 
Whose liquid music, flowing, 

Hath magic charms 
To still alarms, 
The sweetest peace bestowing, 

On fleetest wing 
Fly thou, and sing, 
To cheer a brave heart bearing 

A load of grief 
Beyond belief, 
Beyond an angel's daring; 

Though worn and faint, 
Giving no plaint, 
But brave on life's road faring; 

Through griefs, discreet, 
With spirit sweet, 
Well worth an angel's sharing. 


Sing, bird of cheer ! 
So he shall hear 
Above earth's loudest blaring; 

And sing again 
To cheer him, when 
Noon's fervid heats are burning; 

Assure him well 
That thou wilt tell, 
Ere next the noon's returning, 

In thy best tune, 
That some sweet boon 
Shall soothe the plaintive yearning 

Of his sad heart, 
As he, the art 
Of grand endurance learning, 

Seeks only joy 
Which doth not cloy, 
A.11 vain enjoyment spurning. 


Then, sweetest bird 
Mine ears have heard, 
When sunset's wealth is streaming, 

In western skies, 
To glad the eyes 
And set the spirit dreaming 

Of Ind of old 
Or towers of gold 
With heavenly splendors beaming, 

Sing once again, 
And tell him when, 
Thy pledge in truth redeeming, 

Thou bringest joy, 
It shall not cloy 
Nor be less than its seeming ! 

The world to bless 
With his success, 
By grand impulses driven, 


Leon to art 
His head and heart, 
Through toilsome years, had given ; 

To win a name 
And merit fame, 
Most manfully had striven ; 

Not thought of ease. 
Nor wish to please, 
From purpose firm unnerving ; 

And painted well 
Both flood and fell, 
A high reward deserving. 

But Fashion bold, 
By threats and gold, 
The coward critics swerving, 

They named him cheap, 
And much and deep 
They planned to shame and grieve him. 


And Fashion's queen, 
High in her spleen,- 
Induced that one to leave him 

Who vowed, by skies 
And stars, to prize 
And never to deceive him. 

For fiat dread 
By Fashion said 
Receives a quick obeying, 

Though Fashion ask 
Laborious task, 
Or even ask the slaying 

Of sweetest dove 
The God of love 
E'er sent to earth, conveying 

A message down, 
With joy to crown 
Two hearts their pledges saying. 


To whim accursed, 
By mother nursed, 
Who hoped her Lillian mating 

With one of fame 
Who had, with name, 
The wealth for finest feting ; 

The wealth to blaze 
Through golden days 
To her own fullest sating, — 

To whim accursed 
By mother nursed 
Who managed the alliance 3 

Fair Lillian said 
She would not wed 
But disregard affiance, 

From Leon turn, 
Who soon would learn, 
Her own act scarce regretting. 


In other face 
His hope to trace, 
His first love soon forgetting. 

This noble girl, 
For Fashion's whirl 
By mother false intended, 

In traits and lore 
Resembled more 
The father long ascended. 

And when she died 
Who thus belied, 
The motherless, though weeping, 

Found still a voice 
That could rejoice 
In freedom from that keeping. 

Love's longing then, 
And inner ken 
Was quickened to discerning 



What great mistake 
The heart must make 
When from its true mate turning 


Her guardian kin 
Vowed it " high sin 
That Lillian should love him. 

" Wretch, who pretends .! 
For we, her friends, 
Are socially above him !" 

Grew Lillian brave ; 
No longer slave 
To Fashion's bold commanding, 

She valued worth 
More than high birth 
And more than social standing. 

One saddened year 
She rambled here, 
And homeward when returning 


She dared to say, 
" Their cruel sway 
Henceforward firmly spurning, 

" Some day I'll wed 
Him whom I said, 
In answer to his pleading., 

" From me should go. 
Ah day of woe ! 
When I, in that false leading 

" Subservient kept, 
As Leon wept, 
Could crush his heart to bleeding r 

The morn returns 
And kindly burns, 
Its silver splendors playing 


On eastern hills, 
Whence happy rills, 
The river's call obeying, 

Flowed singing sweet, 
In vale to greet, 
When first the murk was graying, 

One breaking rest, 
To come in quest, 
Ere children came for Maying, 

Of choicest flowers, 
In field and bowers 
So sweet that angels straying 

To earth, to ken 
The ways of men, 
Therein protract their staying. 

The bloom to get, 
And hoping, yet, 
Angels, this morning, tarry, 


She comes to pray 
They right words say, 
That she the words may carry. 

When she shall go, 
E're noontide glow, 
To cheer a heart so chary 

She must be brave 
Who thinks to save, 
And gentle as a fairy, 

With right address, 
Who seeks to bless 
The one from griefs so wary 

He would suspect, 
In friend direct, 
A foe, and quickly parry 

Faith's very deed 
His heart should need 
To lift him from his grieving , 


At words she sent 
And would repent, 
With tears and full retrieving. 

Thus she relates ; 
In arbor waits 
Angelic one, receiving, 

Through perfumed air, 
Her earnest prayer, 
And then, a message leaving, 

Toward the skies 
Doth grandly rise, 
His way with bright wing cleaving. 

The angel flown ; 

And when alone, 

The flowers with laurel twining 


Their truth to tell, 
Doth Lillian dwell 
Glad on his words, designing 


Those words to heed, 
When she shall read, 
Their truth in full divining. 

And, dulcet one, 
At yester sun, 
Whom I heard joyful flinging 

Thy carols high, 
From earth to sky, 
As welcome message bringing, 

Fly speeding back 
Thine azure track 
To him whose grief is clinging, 

A bird austere, 
Raven of fear, — 
But it shall flee thy singing. 

Bird of sweet song, 
Fly swift along, 
And fly with bravest winging 


Of bird whose word 
Might be inferred 
Would set these bright hours ringing 

As breaks the day, 
Bird, speed away, 
And herald her whose cheering 

His heart shall reach, 
And winsome teach, 
And aid to cease his fearing. 

Now to his eyes 
What glad surprise ! 
Is angel form appearing? 

Doth most it seem 
Or true or dream ? 
A maiden bravely nearing! 

And her whose doubt 
Had cast him out, 
What time the critics, sneering, 



Increased the need 
Of kindly deed 
And brave words, and endearing! 

And doth she bow? 
Denouement now ! 
Though tremulous with feeling 

She hath no song. 
Till for her wrong, 
Her sad heart full revealing, , 

Before the man 
Whom she gave ban, 
She bows in humblest kneeling, 

Pouring her tears, 
Pale with her fears 
And most sincerely praying t 

" For wrong to thee 
Wilt pardon me, 
Who merit but thy saying: 


" I haste away ? 
If that thou say, 
Mine be the sad obeying." 

And Leon, now : 
"That some should vow 
And plot their 'worst to hurt me, 

" It was not strange ; 

But that thou change 

And cruelly desert me, — 

" The cup of woe ! 
It saddened so 
As almost to convert me 

" From buoyant mind, 
To faith inclined, 
To doubt's extremest madness ; 

"That who decreed 
My art should lead 
To grandest heights of gladness 


"Thy happy heart, 
Should act the part 
To fill my heart with sadness,- 

" Ah ! bitter fate ! 
Most sad estate ! 
But I have seen thy sorrow. 

" Thou askest me 
To pardon thee, 
Nor future moments borrow; 

" But sayest condign, 
If I incline 
To wait till some to-morrow. 

"The time is now 
While thou dost bow ; 
And here, this hand extending, 

" I bid thee rise 
And see the skies 
Benign above us bending. 


" Their peaceful blue, 
With golden hue 
Of early sunbeams blending, 

" And pleasant breeze 
In budding trees 
Yon happy hills adorning; 

" And waterfall, 
And bird, and all 
• The melody of morning, 

" Bid thy hope live, 
When thou dost give 
Thy worship for thy scorning!' 

Brave in her tears, 
Brave through her fears, 
And brave when came his blessing* 

Before him brave 
Who pardon gave 
Full as her grand confessing, 


Doth Lillian true 
Give honor due, 
Brave Leon thus addressing: 

" Thou truest man 
Since time began, 
And truest of the living, 

" My joy how great, 
When fit thy hate, 
I have thy full forgiving ! " 

No need to dwell 
And frigid tell 
Of every day he missed her, 

Since morning gray 
Of that sad day, 
The last day that he kissed hei c 

One word to say, 
Her bravest way 
With love his spirit firing. 


That one word " Come I " 
With him at home, 
This is her song inspiring; 

" Supremest bliss ! 
From thee a kiss — 
Thy love with my relenting! 

" Safe in thy arms, 
Thy soul's high charms 
To pay for my repenting! 

" May thy friend lead 
Across the mead 
To bower yon pleasant glade in ? 

" There would she tell, 
In that dear dell. 
The message first essayed m 

" The charming place. 
There Heaven gave grace 
When earnest she had prayed in 


" The pleasant bower. 
O sacred hour ! 
O place the angel stayed in ! 

" There spake he words 
That still like birds 
Inspire the heart of maiden. 

" And may she there, 
With tender care 
Lead thee, thou laurel laden ? " 

For him but shame, 
Whate'er his name, 
Whose dark soul must discover 

A snake beneath 
The maiden's wreath 
Wherewith she crowns her lover 


Her tender talk 
On that sweet walk 
O'er which the angels hover, 

Words from a heart 
From sin apart 
As white-robed hosts above her, — 

Who evil sees 
In joys like these, 
And . pours his righteous spurning, — ■ 

Who thinks a knave, 
Or foolish slave, 
The suitor patient learning 

Love's art, which few 
Give study due, 
And laughs at love's deep yearning, 

Count him near hell, 
Where'er he dwell, 
A hell within him burning ! 


The sweetest word 
Earth ever heard, 
How some delight to sneer it ! 

Sweet word of love ! 
From joys above 
The angels come to hear it I 

And poise in air, 
With choicest care, 
To hear the song, as near it 

As doth behoove 
Those come to prove 
When others' vows endear it, 

And heavenly grace 
Illumes the face 
As love from grief doth clear it, 

And throbs the heart 
As love's quick art 
Rids of the doubts that sear it ! 



How grand the truth, 
Love giveth youth 
To him who knows its meaning ! 

To him the sands 
Of desert lands, 
With flowers and grasses greening, 

Are fresh with gales 
In which joy sails 
Have happiest careening 

On sparkling springs, 
O'er which bright wings, 
In happy host convening, 

Pour gladdest song 
The hours along, 
Their music grandly swelling, 

Minstrelsy sweet, 
For heaven meet, 
As birds a bliss were telling 


Above the worth 
Of joys of earth, 
Their song the thought compelling, 

Each songster's ear 
Did anthem hear 
Of those in Eden dwelling! 


Exquisite song, Horatius, 

Of joys I have not known; 
The music of thy numbers 

The sadness shall atone, 
Or lessen it, and aid me 

To wish, for others, bliss; 
And if it make unselfish, 

High worth in song like this. 


Though none have heard 
What angel word, 
By Lillian's lips repeated, 


To Leon gave 
Power to be brave, 
Nor saw the kisses meted 

That told their love, 
Thou bird above 
The bower where they are seated 

Dost sing to tell 
How fit and well, 
At Metawampe, greeted 

The fair and strong ; 
And 'twas thy song 
That aided Leon's wooing, 

And taught that best 
Is bravest quest 
In any kind of suing. 

Soar not away, 
But longer stay, 
Thou bird of bravest winging ; 


With roundelay 
Still cheer the dav. 
Thou bird of sweetest singing. 

Thy gentle eyes 
Are fit to prize 
The sacred ties 
Declared by their caresses, — 

Him wreath-entwined ; 
Her head reclined, 
As heaven designed, 
Upon the heart she biesses ; 

She gazing sweet 
To eyes that greet 
The orbs they meet 
With richest lustre, beaming 

From eyes of dove, 
To speak his love 
For her, above 
All others, lovely seeming 


To him addressed, 
By her he blessed, 
" As, noblest, best, 
Beyond her fancy's dreaming I" 

My friend, 'tis worst 

That ever burst 

From lips accursed ! 
The lie by cowards stammered ; 

By fools, who prate, 

Love is a fate 

To enervate. 
The man with soul enamored 
Of soul worth, and attracting, 
By his majestic acting 

And equipoise, 

One who employs 

The high decoys 
Of maiden's choice designing, 
Whose soul, his worth divining, 
Attracts his soul, for twining 

Love's tendrils strong, — 


To him belong, 

Above my song, 
Congratulations grandest. 
And thou who understandest 
Such joys, by not possessing 
The unspeakable blessing 
Of love's returned caressing; 

Ethelbert, tell ' 

Me thou wilt well, 

Until life's close, 

Endure thy woes ! 

That other ban 

Of mortal man, 

That fate the worst 

That ever cursed 
For cowardice in suing, 
For treachery in wooing, 
For any wrongful doing; 
Or came to heart despairing 
Of ever rightly pairing, 
And wedding, so, uncaring; 

That fate he wins 

Whose heart begins 


The married life unmated — 

That thou art not thus fated, 

Thou art congratulated. 

Of all woes this life giveth, 

His worst who wedded liveth 

With one his worth unknowing, 

Whose soul, nor grand nor growing, 

Pretends, as such will, ever, 

Each manliest, best endeavor 

To think and live sublimely 

A rash act and untimely, 

The proof of cheap vanity, 

Or sign of insanity! 

Truth all too little rated, 

'Tis hell to wed unmated! 

But blest the man 

Whom Lillian, 

By angel plan, 

Shall save from ban, 


Thou speakest well, Horatius; 
Wilt thou thy theme pursue? 


And with the heavens to favor, 
Thy comrade will live true, 


With gentle hand, 
In fairy-land, 
To thoughts sublime she led him; 

With grandest views, 
And nectar dews, 
And heavenly fruitage, fed him ; 

From field and sky 
And mountain high 
Inspiring lessons read him ; 

With tender art, 
From her true heart, 
A sincere promise said him; 

Naming a day, 
A month away, 
A happy day to wed him. 


That good day came 

With sweetest flame 
The Orient ever lighted, 

To signalize 
The golden ties 
Of loving hearts united! 

Day sweet with airs 
That banished cares 
And to high thoughts incited; 

Day spanned with blue, 
The whole day through ! 
As if all wrongs were righted, 

And sang the lark 
Till all birds dark 
Had flown from earth affrighted ! 

At morning hour, 
In Lillian's bower, 
With chosen friends attending, 


Two clasping hands, 
To speak the bands 
Their lives in union blending! 

While hovering nigh, 
From amber sky, 
Are angel harpers waiting, 

With high delight 
In holy rite 
In which two hearts are mating. 

The service done, 
The surpliced one 
In fitting words addressed them ; 

Calm in his bliss 
Leon gave kiss. 
And kith and kindred blessed them ; 

While brooks kept tune 
With birds of June, 
Mid apple blossoms seated, 


And birds from perch 
Of beech and birch 
The lovely Lillian greeted, 

And rose acclaim 

To Leon's name, 

At Metawampe meted, 

By every voice 
That could rejoice ; 
And flowers the choicest growing, 

The twain to greet, 
Sent odors sweet 
By every zephyr blowing. 


Ennobling, still, the anguish 
That must be mine when told, 

Wherein, for me were ashes, 
Others found shining gold. 



Twelve months, the morn 
A child is born, 
The gods to earth consigning 

A lovely boy, 
Sweet pledge of joy, 
The graces well combining 

Of him who heard 
The singing bird, 
And her love's wreath entwining. 

Benign their sky, 
As years go by, 
Each marked with heaven's blessing. 

And dawns the day, 
Sweet in the May, 
When angels come confessing, 

To parents blessed 
With baby guest, 
That angel, in caressing 


Her cherry lips, 
The nectar sips 
Finer than that provided, 

From sweetest flowers 
Of heaven's bowers, 
For gods when they decided 

The questions great 
In human fate, 
By Jove to them confided. 

Their love kept new, 
For each soul grew, 
And each the other aided 

Right things to know, 
To help each grow, 
And love's rose never faded. 


Each soul, each hour, 
Increased in power, 
Each by the other's doing, 

And each by own 
In grace was grown ; 
Their love each day renewing, 

Because, each day, 
Each soul could say, 
My soul's mate still is growing, 

My soul to prove 
With noblest love, 
Affection worth bestowing. 

What words are thine, Horatius: 

"Their love kept new, 

For each soul grew, 
And each the other aided 


"Right things to know, 
To help each grow, 
And love's rose never faded!" 


Their honeymoon 
Did not end soon, — 
In truth it never ended. 

By Lillian traced 
With finest taste, 
In love's own picture blended, 

As Leon's due, 
Her soul's rich hue, 
To bless the man she mated. 

To him there came 
Abundant fame, 
And he, as artist feted, 

Still painted well 
Both flood and fell, 
Nor heeded critics serving 


Their lavish praise ; 
Their proffered bays, 
Nor aiding nor unnerving, 

Reminded yet 
Of venomed threat, 
The fullest scorn deserving. 

Their biting sneers 
Of other years, 
With present praise, neglecting, 

With verve and heart 
He plied his art ; 
Some heavenly guide directing 

His paintings made 
Of highest grade ; 
And for the full perfecting 

Of noblest one 
His hand begun. 
He came, the canvas bringing, 


From distant town ; 
And where came down 
The angel, and the singing 

Of sweetest bird 
He ever heard, 
To aid him, still seemed ringing 

From every bird 
That now he heard 
Their happy carols flinging, 

Made it complete , 
In arbor sweet, 
Where pleasant sunbeams strayed in, 

And glinted round 
The grassy ground 
Of bower two children played in. 

And happy there. 
In sweet May air, 
The mother, erst the maiden, 


Recalled the day 
She came to pray 
In bower the angels stayed in. 

Then choicest flowers 
From field and bowers, 
The advent there divining, 

Fair maidens bring, 
And sweetly sing, 
On Lillian's brow entwining 

Arbutus bloom 
With rare perfume, 
The best of heaven's designing. 

Sweet breath of praise 
To God for rays 
From solar fountain shining ! 

Yet speaks it more 
Of scene of yore 
Whose influence, refining, 


Shall teach to know 
High meanings glow 
On shore and shining river; 

Shall teach to read 
That wave and mead 
Reflect the Heavenly Giver, 

Whose lovely earth 
Hath greater worth 
Than that it seems possessing; 

A hidden good, 
Well understood 
By thoughtful minds, and blessing 

Who would discern, 
With power to learn, 
The truths their souls addressing 

In all things made, 
Of every grade ; 
From spray of tiny fountain 


To surging sea ; 
From wind-swayed tree 
To storm-defying mountain ! 


The truth in thy sweet singing 

I love to hear thee tell. 
The present of thy heroes ? 

Thou must have known them well. 


A year to stray, 
Embark to-day 
The two so nobly mated. 

Kind be the gale 
That fills the sail 
Of ship so grandly freighted. 

Zephyr that fanned 
The fairy-land 
Where Leon won his blessing ; 


Benignant breeze, 
Seek thou the seas, 
The good ship so caressing 

That it behave 
Faithfully brave, 
The roughest waves defeating; 

Avoiding rocks, 
And through the shocks 
Of storms in safety fleeting. 

And breeze the best 
That ever blest 
A wanderer returning, 

In safety waft 
Whatever craft 
Keeps time with Leon's yearning 

To see once more 
His native shore 
And hear the carols ringing 


Of sweeter bird 
Than all he heard 
In foreign countries singing ! 

Delightful and inspiring, 

Shall linger with me long 
The scene at Metawampe, 

Depicted in your song ; 
A solace and a study, 

And influence as well, 
To keep the feet from straying 

And to right acts impel ; 
Significant and lovely 

As beams of morning are ; 
An oasis in life's desert ; 

In darkest night, a star, 

To guide and cheer Ethelbert, 
Who speaks his thanks to thee. 

And that the scene you sung him 
An omen prove to be, 



There dawns a hope within him ; 

Though he cannot behold 
The good, the skies, to honor 

The story thou hast told, 
Will send, to prove the saying, 

"The dawn succeeds the night, 
If thorns, likewise the roses, 

And after wrong the right!" 

Your thankfulness is cheering; 

And 'tis high joy to sing, 
The more, if unto others, 

The song a solace bring. 
The sentiment pervading 

The Metawampe theme, 
To some, would seem a vision, 

And idle as a dream ; 
Yet I delight to keep it 

To cheer me, and inspire; 
To give my inner being 

Its light, and food, and fire ! 

[Horatius and Ethelbert rising and looking across the 
landscape, the former resumes speaking.] 


But who are those equestrians 

Who sweep along the plain, 
In easy undulation, 

Like biHows of the main? 
One seems a kingly escort, 

And queenly one who rides; 
I wonder what, Ethelbert, 

Their coursing there betides ! 
Ethelbert, they approach us ! 

Can I believe my eyes ? 
My heroes gone to Europe, 

Give us a fine surprise. 

[The equestrians approach and dismount] 

Ethelbert; Leon, Lillian. 

Lillian, sotio voce. 
Ethelbert! that the name? 

I thought you o'er the ocean; 
But, glad to see you here, 



I ask you, know my welcome 
Is hearty and sincere ? 

Our European ramble, 

Postponed until the sun 
His grand autumnal solstice 

In triumph has begun, 
We came, of course, to Berkshire, 

To spend the summer days, 
And study much on horseback, 

Or coach along the ways. 
An hour ago we neared you, 

Within this lovely grove ; 
A moment heard you singing, 

And toward yon mountain drove. 


May I inquire the meaning 
Of Lillian's knowing look ; 

Why of the name Ethelbert 
She special notice took ? 



Well mayst thou ask, Horatius ; 

And strange as romance seems 
Our meeting here in Berkshire, — 

Dramatic as our dreams ! 
And Lillian could tell thee, 

Though modest of her deeds, 
Why, in this unplanned meeting, 

Her eye such meaning reads. 

The heavenly light from God's high throne 

Will answer all true praying, 
And tell us when, and with what care, 

The needed good conveying, 

We go with ever ready hand ; 

And if at once obeying 
The inner voice, we save from sin 

Who else had gone far straying, 

Our act shall bring us grandest joy, 
Above all song or story ; 


And better fame than heroes win 
On fields of martial glory! 

One morn I sought for special aid 

And heavenly direction, 
If spoiler try his power to wreak, 

That I give prompt protection. 

That day I met one lured astray, 
Who seemed by hope forsaken ; 

Yet firm against the tempter's wiles, 
With not a stray step taken. 

God helped me say, "My friend, let not 
Thy heart's pure blossom perish ! " 

And memories of that hour until 
Life's latest day I'll cherish; 

So bright its lustre glows at thought 

That faithfully I heeded 
The voice that heaven gave within, 

And spoke the message needed. 


A quick, glad cry, she seized my hand, 
And then, o'ercome, she fainted. . 

The tempter fled; and then her voice, — 
" A maiden still untainted 

"Thanks her who saved from lasting shame 
The one who here confesses 
Her greatest fault, remembered long, 
Of scorning his addresses, 

"Who thought her more than all caressed 
By all the airs of morning; 
Then proudly she his suit denied, 
And greeted with cool scorning, 

" His humble prayer, that such as he, 
When weary years of waiting 
Had proven him, might then renew 
His suit, with hope of mating. 

"Tears of remorse these torrid years, 
And then so near descending 
The slimy depths where woman weeps 
In shame that has no ending ! 


" O, thou, the best of womankind, 
May woman worst present thee 
Her trembling thanks, and ask thee lift 
To Heaven, that must have sent thee, 

" These tear-burned eyes — to God's clear blue, 
In praise for fate averted ? 
But may I hope ? will God forgive 
Her sin who thus deserted 

"The noblest one since time began, 
And gave the coolest spurning 
To his sweet words, that sang like larks, 
And now, to ravens turning, 

" With fiery beaks, in fiercest ire, 
Are in her spirit burning ? 
What sequel sad of broken vows 
This desert heart is learning ! " 

And gazing sad, with tear-dimmed ken, 

On portrait held above her, 
She said, " I print one burning kiss, — ■ 

Ah, my deserted lover! 


'My wrong to him has brought the grief 

Of which Ethelbert warned me ! 
If still on earth, wilt thou forgive, , 
Ethelbert, her who scorned thee?" 

L Ethelbert, who has listened with riveted attention, sinks, 
overcome with emotion.] 

Estelle !— Horatius, hither ! 

Is this some fleetinsr dream? 

Lillian, softly. 
He speaks her name; how strange all this! 

'Tis God's own wisdom orders ; 
And we of earth seem coming near 

To heaven's very borders. 

Still lives Estelle, and he forgives 

For all those years of sorrow ; 
A thrilling scene perchance there'll be, 

When Orient brings the morrow; 

Or we may hear, to-day, the vow 
Among the Berkshire mountains, 


Excelling song of bards and birds 
And sweeter than the fountains • 

[Horatius, taking Ethelbert's hand.] 

Companion of my boyhood ! 

Ethelbert^ rising. 
Tell me, before high heaven, 

If still on earth there lives 
The one of whom brave Lillian 

Her glowing picture gives; 
And, if she live, speak gently, 

That still remains on earth, 
Ethelbert, still her lover, 

To whom as nothing worth 
Seems all the happy summer, 

Nor aught the joyous spring, 
Which doth not to Ethelbert 

Her radiant presence bring. 


Her home with us, her grief she tells 
To none but those who love her ; 


in wore! and deed she lives discreet 
As God's own sky above her. 

She came with us, but keeps her name 

From ail in Berkshire dwelling; 
With thee restored, she may forgive 

What I, to thee, am telling! 

[Addiessing Leon.] 

Is that her voice? my Leon bring 

Thy lens, that thou descry her; 
For oft she strolls alone and sings, 

Where no one can espy her, 

Leon, thy steed, and mine for her. 

Thou who wast ever knightly, 
Will act with care, and gently tell 

The grand denouement rightly. 


I As Leon and Estelle approach.l 

My own Estelle. forever I 

Ye biras your noblest song; 


And sweetest brooks of Berkshire, 
The joyous strain prolong ! 

Ethelbert ! ! 

Estelle ! ! 



[After the greeting of the reunited lovers. Ethelbert addresses 

Horatius, thy prediction, 

" The dawn succeeds the night 1 

If thorns, likewise the roses, 
And after wrong the right/" 

I cannot sing. Ethelbert, 

As high as you deserve, 
Who, through the fiercest trials, 

Displayed such royal nerve ; 
And, in these sudden blisses, 

Manly thine uncontrol ; 


While, through your features shining, 

The lustre of your soul, 
Wins all my admiration, 

My highest fancy fills, 
And charms more than the music 

Arising from the rills, 

Among the Berkshire mountains 

That murmur sweet along, 
And sing as if in heaven 

They learned the art of song, 
And were by Him commissioned 

Who made for service high, 
And perfected in singing, 

The minstrels of the sky ; 
By Him who spoke to being, 

Sweeter to sing than rills, 
My friend who loves to hear them, 

Among these Berkshire hills. 

Each one the other loving- 

With fervency of heart, 
Each glowed to find the other 


Rapt o'er the rhythmic art; 
But when we came to try it, 

You sang so much the best, 
I thought" it would be fitting 

That my poor harp should rest. 
And yet my verse found favor, 

And yours was scornful thrown, 
As stuff for which no merit 

Could afterward atone ! 

Sadly you tore the parchment, 
When here the hills among, 

To leave no proof to mortals 
That you had ever sung. 

[Lillian, motioning Horatius aside, speaks to him ; after 
which he returns and addresses Ethelbert.] 

Revealing on revealing ! 

Excelling all. our song, 
And Lillian has told me, 

As he is brave and strong, 
That I inform my comrade, 

Above the angel's word, 


A maiden in an arbor 

At Metawampe heard — 
Was sentiment of stanza, 

Upon a torn page read, 
Discovered when she rambled, 

Where intuition led, 

From Metawampe, hither, 

Among the Berkshire hills ; 
And here she found the singing 

Which all this romance fills, 
With most inspiring sweetness. 

And here how grandly fit 
That she repeat the stanza, 

In your own tracing writ. 
She bade me give the paper 

To him who wrote the verse ; 
And now we ask that Lillian 

The lucid lines rehearse. 


"Reduce to fact your fancy ; 
JVbr tarry till you do 


Make real the ideal 

That God has given you." 


How strange the revelation ! 

What mortal would have kenned 
Such wealth of good resulting 

From verse by mortal penned ? 
An artist's fame and fortune, 

Domestic bliss complete, — 
Two lives of highest beauty 

With usefulness replete ! 
And , here, perchance, Ethelbert 

Will other lines rehearse, 
To match those loved by Lillian, 

As beautiful and terse. 


Most real the ideal, 

Least fact what most call fact; 
And, of ideal, most real, 

Ideal in nn act. 

[Solicited by Lillian, Ethelbert continues.] 


When some kind voice tells thee plainly 

Of new building for thine hand ; 
And thou flndest hindrance mainly 

In the strangeness of command 

Calling thee from routine labor 

In the wonted, humble, sphere, 
And thou fear'st from foe or neighbor 

An unkind or jealous sneer ; 

Do not for such hindrance smother 
That sweet voice that speaks within ; 

Thou mayst find the foe turn brother, 
If thou manfully begin, 

And continue bravely doing, 

Work the angel bids thee do ; 
And, each day the work renewing, 

Thou shalt find it ever new. 

It shall charm like high romances, 
Gemming legends of old days ; 


And, beyond thy farthest fancies, 
O'er wide plains, by untrod ways, 

Paths unknown to other leaders, 
Angel guide shall lead thee sure, 

For the gold and goodly cedars 
Which shall evermore endure, 

In the towers of consummation 

That shall mark thy work complete, 

And attest the world's laudation 

Which thy shrinking ears shall greet. 

Fear not but for all these praises 
That Good Power shall well prepare, 

Who hath life in all its phases 
Under His benignant care ; 

For, by thorns and frequent crosses, 
Which thy heart shall fully test, 

Sad reverses and sore losses, 
If His wisdom thinketh best ; 


To true meekness He will hold thee, 
Still commanding thee, be brave, 

And obey injunctions told thee 
By the angel that He gave. 

And this angel shall sustain thee, 
Be the work or long or hard ; 

And the future shall explain thee, 
All that did thy work retard 

Was designed to bid thee stronger 
Make the building of thine hand, 

Which, than time's duration longer, 
Through eternity, shall stand. 

Follow thine intuitions, 

They always lead thee right; 
In all of thine ambitions, 

Heed thou the inner sight. 

Whatever to that vision 
Seems duty for thee, do ; 


No matter what derision 

The doing leads thee through. 

And derision it will bring thee, 
Ere they shall understand, 

And their tardy praises sing thee 
Whom they had gladly banned; 

They who would joy to shame thee 
And chill thy heart with fright, 

Did not thy grit proclaim thee 
Superior to their might. 

Brave one, thine intuitions 
Shall always lead thee right; 

In all of thine ambitions 
Heed thou the inner sight! 

^ j 

Directed by that vision 

Thy duty bravely do ; 
The glow from thy decision 

Shall light and lead thee through. 


Whatever the monitions 

Thou hear'st within thee, heed ; 
That thou to have contritions 

May never know the need. 

The Father is forgiving, 

If thou repentest sin ; 
Yet most He loves that living 

Which hath no falseness in. 

Wanting fulcrum, wanting lever, 

Given heavy weight to lift ; 
Strong in faith, begin endeavor, 

There shall come to thee, the gift 

Of a heaven-designed appliance, 

By which thou shalt mountains move ; 

While beside thee, in alliance, 

There shall angels wait to prove, 

On more hindrances before thee, 
All their own celestial might •, 


And shall beam, benignant o'er thee, 
God's own sky of love and light ! 


Be these bright words our motto ; 

And now, if Lillian please, 
To mark events resulting 

From sentiments like these ; 
Will she, where lovely maples 

Delight our lodge with shade, 
Prepare a feast as royal 

As one for sovereigns made ? 
For wine thou hast no liking, — 

And who would wish for wine, 
What other drink were given, 

If poured by hand of thine ? 

And, at that feast, Horatius, 
Perchance, will give a song, 

Announcing in sweet numbers 
That Love enduring long 


The trials of his patience. 

Doth added bliss receive 
For every cold refusal 

That made his spirit grieve,- 
A song to date a wedding 

When fine October sun 
Shall speak the season fitting 

That lovers be made one. 

And if at Metawampe 

Our friends shall wish to wed, 
Will Lillian deck the arbor 

Where intuition led 
When erst she sought an angel, 

And where his hope begun, 
Who, but for her relenting, 

Had ever been undone ? 
Thou, Lillian, my consort, 

Though years have made me gray, 
And thou hast locks of silver, 

Thou art, as on that day, 


My joy, my inspiration ; 

As beautiful as beams 
That gild the hours of morning 

Or sparkle in our dreams ; 
As young as at that meeting 

When thou didst say, " forgive : 
And I, for thy relenting, 

Could bid thy hope relive ; 
The hour when smiling heaven 

Gave token in thy kiss, 
Initial fit, and foretaste, 

Of these bright years of bliss ! 

And with the words uniting 

Their hearts in golden bands. 
Shall they, as our companions, 

Embark for foreign lands; 
To thread the glens of Scotland. 

And climb the Alpine height; 
To linger in the castles 

That rose by feudal might ; 



To pluck delicious clusters 

From vine-clad hills of France ; 
And muse where classic ages 

The interest enhance 

In Italy's rich landscape, 

And her delightful skies ; 
And then, returning hither, 

Find much to love and prize 
In this good land, where nature 

And liberty unite. 
To furnish those devoted 

To freedom and the right 
Fit home, with room for growing 

In all that makes men great, 
And elevates a people, 

And unifies a state. 

[Lillian and Ethelbert depart on horseback to the lodge, and Leon 
addresses Estelle, who tarries with Horatius.] 

Truth worth the telling, such as poet true 
Doth sing, is only found by patient search 
In realm beyond the bounds of earthliness, 


Accessible to him alone, whose heart, 

Of selfishness divest, and well refined, 

Can be that brave it must, to study close 

As will to him reveal truth's treasures, hid 

Therein, and evermore, to selfish ones, 

E'en were they, unregenerate, permit 

That realm to range. Fell foe is selfishness, 

To bard, permitting him no bravery 

To journey to that realm he seeks afar, 

And quenching insight clear that sees the truth-, 

And that dread enemy, once slain, 

Often revives again to vex ; and he 

With grandest powers of song, may have within 

An equal enemy, and know it not. 

How happy he, if faithful friend shall see, 

And of that foe, to his convincing, tell. 

And fortunate, beyond compare, to him, 

If woman is that friend, whose love for him, 

Enlightens her to see how strong that foe, 

And aids her in the discipline upon 

His heart which shall the enemy expel , 

And aids that, then, with tears sincere, she beg 

To bow before the man she loves ; and he, 


Protesting 'tis high privilege to him 

That she beside him sit, shall gratefully 

Admit he is her debtor evermore, 

For discipline severe which all his worst 

Self conquered, that his best might live and sing [ 

Estelle, possessor of that poet's heart 

And soul, whose coinage and whose breathing was 

The sentiment, in living which high truth 

Did Lillian all doubt and selfishness 

Expel my heart ; inspire with bravery, 

And teach me patience with myself, that sought, 

In practice of his art, the tracery to do 

The artist's work, that gave my heart its joy 

And brought me all my wealth of fame and friends ! — - 

Thou, wise and good, what words of mine, to thee 

Shall tell the deep solicitude that thou, 

By love assigned to keep his heart, and thence 

To drive his enemy, that thou shalt see 

This work is thine to do ! What words shall tell 

The joy that springs from full belief that thou 

Wilt thus interpret meaning grand of these 

Events, and well thy work will comprehend ; 

And for that mission high, Ethelbert wed ! 



Thou speakest, Leon, as from heaven, the words 

That I shall prize, and evermore shall heed ! 

Shed, sweetest skies, your loveliness divine, 

To temper well this heart ! and Spirit, Thou, 

In Heaven, regnant high, yet noting all 

Thy children's cries ; to me all meekness give, 

And courage, that I well endure upon 

My bleeding heart, the blows thou biddest that 

My hand inflict, a better, truer man 

To make that one I love as life itself \ 

Right nobly done, thy sentiment ! and now 

The language, high, thy lover penned long years 

Ago, and words my heart in faith adopts : 

" Reduce to fact your fancy ; 

Nor tarry till you do 
Make real the ideal 

That God has given you.'" 

And thus, Ethelbert, blessed, refined, inspired 
By thee, and growing by his work, shall learn, 


And all who shall his song admire will read, 

In their own bettered lives his song has blessed, — 

Still further sequel, grand, of truth he sung 

In verse the critics, cursing, thought to kill ! 

[Leon and Horatius start for the lodge, leaving Estelle to 
follow with Ethelbert, who has returned and 
, addresses her.] 

Estelle, thy steed awaits thee, 

Eager to own thy rein 
And amble, at thy bidding, 

Like zephyr o'er the plain ; 
Beyond the Housatonic, 

To glens among the hills, 
Where sparkle silver cascades 

And sing the happy rills, 
And where the lodge of Leon 

Affords an ample view 
Of scene, where, now, two lovers 

Pray heaven to keep them true ! 

[Estelle, with Ethelbert as escort, leaves the grove.] 


IF, sore discouraged and distressed, 
With sorrows and with cares oppressed, 
And sins confessed, and unconfessed, 
And every ill, 

The heart were struggling for relief, 
And found no succor from its grief, 
In buoyant trust, and bright belief, — 
How sad the earth ! 

But rules reverse of these obtain, 
Nor mortal suffered yet in vain, 
A trivial, nor the largest pain, 
Nor ever will. 

So let the troubled take new heart, 
Learn well of suffering the art, 
Nor shun to share a generous part 
In life's good griefs ! 


The saddest his of all estates, 
And slave is he to dreadest fates, 
And farthest he from heavenly gates, 
Whom doubt doth rule ! 

But, sad one, if thou triest to trust, 
In spite of all earth's dark and dust- 
Though midst them living, as thou must— 
Thou liv'st above, — 

Then fiends that strive shall strive in vain 
Control of thy good soul to gain, 
And Hope, true angel, for thee deign 
Her constant aid. 

For none hath God the tender care 
He ever shows for those who bear 
Of life's worst woes abundant share, 
Enduring well. 

Enduring gives the power t'endure, 
With skill to make life's troubles fewer. 
And suffering makes the sufferer pure,— 
So welcome ill. 



Bright after clouds there comes the 'sun, 
And sweetest rest when work is done, 
True peace is but by warring won, — 
True wealth by toil ! 

How blessed is the bright belief, 
That joy which cometh after grief, 
Is sweetest joy, and is not brief, 

Like other joys ! 

Inspiring, grand, and true, the thought, 
That bliss by bitter trials bought, 
Is nearer unto heaven than aught 
On earth beside ! 

And there, beyond thine earthly ban, 
The wisdom of His rounded plan 
Who ordereth the ways of man 
Shall be made plain ; 

And thou shalt know thy Father spoke, 
When fates thy noblest planning broke 
And gave to thee a cross and yoke — 
That prove thy crown ! 


/^"^ OD blesses most the men whose hearts 
^— * With kind emotions burn ; 
And, more than they their fellowmen, 
He honors them in turn. 

Ennobling is our faith in men, 

It lifts us from the dust, 
And what we trust a man to be 

We make the man we trust. 

Faith is the sun succeeding storm, 

Spring, after winter's blast; 
'Tis heaven's health and peace, when plague 

And pestilence are past ; 

Sweet, joy-inspiring airs, to chase 

The desert's torrid breath ; 
Verdure and singing brooks, in place 

Of barrenness and death ! 

106 earth's brightest star. 

Faith is earth's brightest star of hope, 

Salvation and its cause, 
The dispensation following 

The prophets and the laws: 

The newer and the better way 

Proclaimed by angel song; 
The dawn at night whose light extends 

The centuries along ! 


BRIGHT on your native hills 
The sun benignant beams, 
Perennial down the pleasant slopes 

Still sing the happy streams, 
Which feed yon river's tide that flows 

In beauty through the vale ; 
Transparent, purling brooks 

Which sing of springs that never fail ; 
And grand the mountains stand, as erst, 


When there your kindred dwelt, 

And fresh the mountain winds as airs 
Their fields and forests felt. 

And ye remain to keep their homes, 

And guard the noble name 
Earned by their share of those grand deeds 

That give New England fame. 
Shines their example, still, as bright 

As beams the golden sun ; 
Flows still their influence as pure 

As mountain waters run. 
So cherish ye the fame they gained, 

And emulate their worth, 
Your names, when ye are gone, shall live, 

Perennial in the earth ! 


(In remembrance of a noble family.) 

l girlhood's home returning, 
She placed the bitter-sweet 
Within the grand old mansion, 
Where sunbeams shadows meet ; 

And there declared : " Henceforward 

Be kindness all my theme ; 
With constant hand dispensing, 

The moments to redeem ; 

" Teaching, if I have suffered, 
I would the world be blest: 

Praying, if I have struggled, 
The weary have good rest. 

" I thank Thee, Heavenly Father — 
My name Thou hast kept sweet, 

And through these bitter trials, 
Hast kept my ways discreet." 

"she placed the bitter-sweet. 109 

The silver tresses mingling 

Her raven locks among 
Mean more than years ; they index 

Her heart's own sorrows wrung; 

Of which, most like, she tells not, 

So reticent of grief ; 
As most like she hath suffered 

Too deeply for belief. 

Bevbnd that first revealing 
She speaks not of her lot; 
% Hoping her many sorrows 
By earth be all forgot ! 

To girlhood's home returning, 

She placed the bitter-sweet 
Within the grand old mansion, 

Where sunbeams shadows meet: 


IN sunny days of childhood playing, 
When life was all one scene of Maying, 
And thou hadst not a thought of straying, 
God blessed thee then. 

Forgiving all thy youthful sinning, 
He helped thee to a manly winning 
Good triumphs o'er a bad beginning, 
And helps thee still, 

That, in the strife which ceaseth never £ 
Demanding watch and warring ever, 
Thou do, by manliest endeavor, 
The victor be. 


O GIVEN by fiends the gall to drink, 
And sweeter grown for all they send ; 
A kind and watchful Providence 

Will soon proclaim the ordeal's end ; 
Yet call thee not from earth above, 

But ask thee, wearied one, take rest ; 
And that thy restless eyes may close, 

Command that, from the roseate west, 
Angels reposeful influence sweet 

Pour forth, to give thy spirit calm, 
And others send, on zephyrs borne, 

To soothe thy troubled heart with balm. 

Angelic ones shall sentinel 

Thy rest, and fragrance waft, till day, 
Shall brightly break and bid thee, glad, 

Thy grateful orisons to pay ; 
Refreshed, inhale the ambrosial air 

And walk beneath a happy sky, 


Inspired, by carol of the birds 

And songs of brooks that murmur by, 

With faith that heaven will bless thy days, 
Each westering sun bring peaceful sleep, 

And every morn new evidence 

That angels tender watch-care keep ! 

Heroic sufferer, who hast borne 

The burden of a broken heart, 
Patiently, artlessly, and yet 

With all the dignity of art, 
While so intent to bless the world 

None knew what woes thine own heart had — 
Deep, bitter griefs, which, told above, 

Would make the heavenly singers sad, — 
Soon shalt thou learn the gracious truth, 

Through griefs and cares which here annoy, 
Heaven builds the path by which thy feet 

Shall reach the highest hills of joy ! 


TOO many hearts are sad, to-night, 
I may not dance to music light, 
They're sad from hunger and from pain, 
And sad from sin's polluting stain. 
Low down in cellars, up the stairs, 
Where freely pass the winter airs ; 
'Neath wretched shed, and in the street, 
Where pelt the piercing storms of sleet, 
Are pallid cheeks, and sunken eyes, 
And forms that never more may rise. 
Too many hearts are sad to-night, 
I cannot dance to music light. 
But some will wake, if moved aright, 
To noble purpose and brave deed, 
And nobly with their duty speed, 
Achieving full, complete success, 
While all the world, admiring, bless. 
All this, if now, right words I say, 


While you with like companions gay, 
In dizzy waltzing whirl away ! 
Too many hearts are sad to-night ; 
[ will not dance to music light ! 


f~~^ OOD friend, if every one observed 
^—^ The mandate to be kind, 
If all were courteous as thvself, 

And helpfully inclined, 
How bright a scene this earth would be, 

How light life's burdens prove ; 
How blithe, along life's rugged road, 

Would pilgrims singing move ! 

Sweet resonance of sparkling streams 
Would bless life's desert drear ; 

And birds would sing, and flowers and fruit 
With fragrance fill the air ! 


There is no overestimate 

Of kindness to our kind, 
And brightest stars will bless the man 

To helpful ways inclined ! 



\I 7HEN, erst, the nation was besieged 

^ * By armed rebellious foemen, 
And peace had fled, and skies were dark 

With every direful omen ; 
And Lincoln, from the capitol, 

For aid so wistful beckoned, 
Not least among the men to march 

The Bay state's Forty-second ! 

Now that the din of war is done, 
And glad the war cloud's risen, 

They come with thought of camp and field, 
And of the rebel prison ! 


They gather here for hearty words. 

In kindly interest spoken, 
To make the bands of friendship strong, 

That never may be broken ! 

Should Treason arm again her hosts, 

To fill the land with trouble, 
Her deepest schemes of ill would prove 

An evanescent bubble ; 
For those brave men would rise again 

And march, with others like them, 
To capture all the rebel guns, 

And evermore to spike them. 

And, wishing you much earthly joy, 

And entrance late to heaven, 
I speak this sincere offering, 

In rhythmic numbers given. 
By one who deems it pleasant fame 

That he is welcome reckoned, 
A member, in good standing, with 

The Bay state's Forty-second ' 


THE wicked wish some critics have, 
And knack, and greed, to kill, 
May pass quite readily for taste, 
And evidence of skill ; 

But were there none to write a verse s 

Or paragraph of prose. 
How critics, then, would pass their time, 

Is more than mortal knows. 

They might ascend the upper spheres, 

To criticise the stars, 
And teach good manners and good sense 

To Jupiter and Mars, 

Then clip away old Saturn's rings 
And set him bounds to run ; 

Or venture near the solar fires, 
To regulate the sun ! 


And should these critics go to Heaven 

Their joy would be to tell 
How saints mignt tune their harps correct 

And sins: hosannas well ! 


THESE lines to tell thee, bards 
Who sing for all the listening laud. 
And sages wise and famed, had named 

Felicitous and grand 
The verse on which thou didst 

Invoke an ignominious fate, 
And, with high, scornful wrath, declare 
Unworthy of thy hate ! 

Then thou, with thy gray eyes 

Quick twinkling in their greedy glee, 

And rubbing thy cold palms, didst look, 
Expectant long, to see 


Before thee, suppliant still, 

Thy victim bow in further prayer ? 
And then his trembling form begin 

Dissolving into air ! 

Instead, at equipoise, 

He gazed, awhile, in high delight 
On thy hard face, then left thee there 5 

All powerless in thy might! 
Although thou gav'st him joy, 

He does not thank thee for the bliss ; 
That verse, to thee, seemed lacking fire ; 

Grim critic, say, does this? 



J"E count above our common good, 
Selectest of. our joys, 
Remembrances of those dear days 
When you and I, were boys, 


And when, perfumed with clover bloom, 

Our early moments ran, 
And happy in the songs of birds 

We journeyed up to man. 

What other cure the world prescribes, 

By far the safest, best, 
Is glancing at our early days, 

Is retrospect and rest. 

From cares and crowds of urban life. 

From traffic of the town ; 
From wearying toil in dust and din, 

From griefs that weigh you down ; 

From present ill, and future dread, 

And all that fetters thee, 
Come to the country and the past, 

Be innocent and free. 

Review the scenes of early days 
With fondness and with care. 


The neighborhood once all your world, 
And every object there : 

The pansied yard, the slant well-sweep, 

And apple orchard near ; 
The ancient farm-house, broad and red, 

By many memories dear; 

The hay-field and the pasture wide, 

The fences by the lane ; 
The thick-leaved maples where you hid 

When pattered down the rain; 

The road where erst the stage-coach ran, 

Which joyed you as it passed, 
The high coach set on thoroughbrace, 

And built to have it last; 

The mountain road-way, steep and rough, 

On which you trudged to school, 
To "make your manners" and to learn 

Hard Colburn's sum and rule ; 


The school-house near the beechen grove ; 

The neighboring lumber mill ; 
The home-made hand-sled, and the joys 

Of coasting down the hill ; 

The autumn woods and golden maize, 

And old Thanksgiving; dav ; 
The winter wood-pile at the door 

And drifts that choked the way; 

Strict Sundays at the hill-top church, 

Staid deacons in their pews, 
The preacher in his lofty place, 

Discoursing gospel news ; 

And Sunday noons, with sermon done, 

And benediction said, 
When we, in that clear scripture class, 

"The word" together read. 

Wise counsel, then, the teacher gave, 
That angel of our youth, 


If pointedly, yet tenderly, 
To carry home the truth. 

His sympathetic face dispelled 

Our bashfulness and fears, 
Glowed at recital of our joys 

And saddened at our tears; 

And fragrant will the memory be 

Of our devoted friend, 
Till that good town and all of earth 

In nothingness shall end ! 

And one w T as in that Sunday class 

Who felt a call to preach, 
And proved it true by saving those 

Whom others could not reach. 

With men on every hand w r ho wished 

The gospel plan explained, 
He did not tarry long at school, 

Nor wait to be ordained, 


But went to work, with earnestness.. 

And strove his best to win 
Some trophy for the Lord he loved, 

By leading those from sin 

Who near him dwelt, and whom he thought 

In value quite the worth 
Of those who lived across the seas, 

In corners of the earth. 

The hamlet school-house where he preached 

To half a hundred men 
Would hardly hold the throngs his words 

Have won to grace since then. 

Unlike ambitious pulpiteers 

Who preach and pray for fame, 

He did not seek the praise of men, 
Nor glory when it came ; 

But, stronger grown with his success, 
Nor vain amid applause, 


He keeps his great and growing powers 
Devoted to his cause. 

Another of that Sunday band 

Has lived for self alone, 
And reached, at last, the height he sought, 

The politician's throne. 

Ambitious man of place, the years 

Of innocence review, 
And see how far your selfishness, 

From righteous ways and true, 

Has led you on, through doubtful scnemes 

And crooked paths, to power 
Which founded seems, but which must fail 

When comes the trial hour, 

And leave you naught but bitterness 
And keen remorse for ways 


At variance with the pleasant scenes 
That gem your early days. 

Among the quaint habitues, 

Whose words the hamlet cheered, 

Welcome at huskings and the "bees,"' 5 
The story 7 man appeared. 

Glad on their journey to the school, 
The pupils heard him tell 

Of famous men who once were boys 
And learned their lessons well, 

And were quite sure to reach at last 

A place at Washington, 
Where many mighty laws were made. 

And other things were done ! 

i fc>- 

Although you little knew or dreamed 
What were the " other things," 

Have you until to-day remained 
Quite innocent of " rings ?" 


The other school tasks done, you said 

" Set " answers, that were given, 
Anent some worthies then on earth, 

And others gone to heaven. 


With veneration you pronounced 

The ancient Briggs's name, 
But have you copied in your life 

His honest steps to fame? 

The shed remains wherein you sawed 

The beech and maple wood, 
Where cart and farming tools were kept, 

And where that grind-stone stood 

Which brings to you sad memories 

Of axes hard to grind, 
And, in hot days, the scythe, to try 

The temper of your mind ! 

Often you vowed, when older grown, 
Machinery should serve 


To do the work that over-taxed 
Your adolescent nerve. 

But other themes than labor aids 
Have moved your mind since then, 

And you have had your axes ground 
By various sorts of men ! 

You must recall quaint "Major" Brown, 

Who led a roving life, 
Since, years before, death claimed the girl 

Pledged for the "Major's" wife. 

And you remember when they laid 
This "Major" Brown to rest, 

That reverent, near the open grave, 
The neighbors kindly pressed ; 

While all the failings of his life, 

In pity, were forgot, 
And all his worth was magnified, 

With worth that he had not ! 


Although, to-day, you feel above 

Such broken men of grief, 
So "great" they ought to prize the pence 

You dole for their relief ; 

When, at the coming call of death, 

You journey out of town ! 
Will people think as well of you 

As erst of " Major " Brown ? 

Ambitious man of place, the scenes 

Of innocence review, 
And once again return to walk 

In righteous ways and true. 

This selfish one let us dismiss, 

He cannot flourish long ; 
And we can find more fitting theme 

To chronicle in song, 



In that delightful scene, when you, 
At spring-time, on the hill, 

Entranced to see the liquid wealth 
From maple trees distill, 

And, that it might the sweeter grow, 
Sing, o'er the laughing tire, 

A carol sweet as ever breathed 
From angel lip or lyre, 

Found finer charm in liquid eyes 

Of two most lovely girls, 
Whose happy smiles and ruddy cheeks, 

And innocence and curls, 

Were invitation that you dish 
For them the waxen sweet, 

And in return, for recompense, 
Their lips with kisses greet ! 

One was a cousin, I believe; 
The other was a friend 


Whom afterwards you vowed to love 
Till earthly days should end. 

And now the keepsake that she .grave 

Is moist with tears you shed, 
To think, before the wedding day 

Your pleasant friend was dead ! 

By road whereon the stages ran, 

Not far away, the place, 
Wherein, of old, as " leading man," 

With more than usual grace, 

There reigned Elnathan Smith, Esquire, 
Who lived, through all his days, 

For morals, manners and attire, 
Deserving sincere praise. 

Smith spurned a miser as a thief, 
And acted "on the square;" 

And those not Masons have belief 
That Smith had once "been there." 


Attending church in holy time, 

As every body should, 
He " joined" in prayer and Sunday rhyme, 

As pious people would. 

Smith kept his temper all the while 

Unmarred by frown or fret, 
And gave a penny and a smile 

To every child he met. 

He had good sense and ready wit, 

And kept whate'er he heard 
That was for keeping really fit, 

And always kept his word. 

To patriotic teachings true, 

He deemed of highest worth, 
And kept, as most of Smithville do, 

The " great and glorious Fourth." 

Smith had a clear, unbiased mind, 
And, such the town's desire, 


The governor felt well inclined, 
And made him village squire. 

He taught, ten terms, the district school 

In an adjoining place, 
Maintaining: there a uleasant rule 

With dignity and grace. 

To Washington he never went, 

That town of high import ; 
Yet twice had been as juror sent, 

And once to General Court ! 

As Smith grew old he walked in town, 

On pleasant afternoons, 
Attired in garb of modest brown, 

And humming cheery tunes. 

And, with his full and steady breath, 

And face with health aglow, 
He seemed no older near his death 

Than twenty years ago ; 


Yet Mister Smith has gone from earth, 

As every mortal must, 
Of noble or of lowly birth 

Unrighteous they, or just. 

His life, in Smithville which began, 

Closed there at eighty-four; 
And Smithville weeps that this good man 

Can be with them no more. 

Smith's life-long friend was Doctor Bliss, 

Who carried, everywhere, 
A smile, to cheer the sick and drive 

That worst of curses, care. 

Bliss loved Squire Smith, and looked like him, 

Clad trim in like attire ; 
Near him he lived, and when he died, 

Was buried near the squire. 


Another friend of Mister Smith, 

Respected and revered, 
Was William Wilson, learned and wise, 

A teacher born and reared. 

The ancient school-house where he taught, 

For twenty years and more, 
Had but three windows on a side, 

And one above the door. 

It stood upon the village green, 
Hard by the " Center church ;" 

Was well supplied with furniture, 
But unsupplied with birch ! 

This Wilson had a better way 

To punish recreant boys, 
Who had been lazy at their tasks 

Or making needless noise. 

To them more dread than blows the book 
Wherein, with proper grade, 



For every wrong a pupil did, • 

The fearful check was made ! 

With patience and with kindly care 

He led his pupils through 
The paths of common learning, till 

They every feature knew. 

And oft, perchance, they caught a glimpse 

Of classic grove and field, 
And felt a longing for the fruits 

Those pleasant regions yield. 

But Euclid and " the languages," 

In district schools of vore, 
Were all discarded and forbid, 
• As very useless lore. 

Since Wilson gave up teaching school, 
Ten years and five have passed ; 

But through a century to come 
His influence shall last. 


He still resides within the town ; 

And, though three-score and ten, 
The people all declare he is 

The comeliest of men. 

Not far away from Smith's abode 

The shop of Crispin Crane, 
Who furnished boots for Smithville folk, 

A livelihood to gain. 

Not only did he gauge their feet, 

But oft they came to find 
He fully had the power to take 

The measure of their mind!. 

By timely repartee he stilled 

A most perplexing bore, 
Who perpetrated bitter jokes 

Within the Smithville "store." 


And Smithville vowed, town meeting day, 

"Who can this pest defeat, 
We must elect him, here and now, 

To legislative seat." 

Crane proved a wise assembly man, 
Was hearty with his friends, 

And never made a speech unless 
To compass worthy ends. 

It was this year in politics 

A party rose and fell, 
Whose bad disaster at their schemes 

It is a joy to tell. 

Late in the term a question rose 

This party called the test, 
For which their leader spoke at length 

With artificial zest; 

And, in his final flight, declared, 
" How favored is the land 


Where, sentinels of public peace, 
Labor reformers stand !" 

"'Labor reformers','' Crispin spoke, 
" That means reformed from work ; 

And rightly named, for well you like 
Life's burdens all to shirk. 

"Below the wrath of common men; 

Too cheap for ours by half, 
We'll not oppose your plannings, but 

Explode them with a laugh !" 

The wit that beamed in Crispin's eyes, 

Put all in merry mood, 
As rang around the galleries 

A soul-refreshing " Good !" 

The gavel man forgot to rap, 
Reporters dropped their notes-, 

And when some one "the question " called, 
The measure had twelve votes ! 

J 39 


And that's the way the party died, 
By this sarcastic Crane ; 

And hence the reason he was sent 
To General Court again. 

And still again was Crane returned. 

Until six times in all ; 
Nor by the lures of lobby men 

Did he from honor fall. 

Yet Crane does not love politics ; 

And, now, in private life, 
He glories in his leathern art, 

His children and his wife ! 

Let not the bards to whom belong 
High themes and lofty verse 

Despise, as all unworthy song, 
The lives these lines rehearse 


Though each lived in obscurity, 
Yet each was still a man ; 

As good on earth we seldom see, 
And better never can ! 

Though Smithville was so blest of heaven, 

To it one tedious thorn was given, 

A full "perfected" man of sin, 

Most surely who the purse could win, 

Did he and Satan run a race 

On any course away from grace ! 

Supremely mean in all his deeds, 

His heart as hard as flint ; the needs 

Caused by his extortions moved him not ; 

The pining poor were all forgot. 

Selfish, of marble face, and stern ; 

Full quick to sin, and apt to learn 

The ways of avarice and wrong; 

On primal sin improving long, 

He chose oppression for his art, 

And practiced it with all his heart; 


His sinning cloaked with graciousness, 
And cursed when he appeared to bless ! 
He so gifted in causing tears 
Had fitting name — Abijah Beers. 
May God protect if here, again, 
So bad a man 'mong living men ! 
And there was not, since earth began. 
So much of meanness in a man. 
To find fit place for him to dwell, 
The liberals declared for hell ! 
He died at last as fools do die ; 
Thistles thrive where his ashes lie! 

Although, in later years, the town 
Has its unwelcome men, 

Whose like the people rightly pray 
May never come again — 

A fellow keen at crooked claims 
And skilled in stealing lands ; 

An undertaker glad to have 

Fresh orders on his hands ; 


A barrister who nurses feuds 
To have a chance for fees, 

And busy gossips who delight 
To fan a social breeze — 

tn spite of them the people thrive 
And keep the ways of peace ; 

And ever may the dear old town 
In all good things increase ! 

Yet it cannot, nor can the earth, 

Afford us better joys 
Than blisses gemming those dear days 

When you and I were boys ! 

And, still, rejoicing that they live 

In memory our own, 
We will not sigh as passing years 

Proclaim us older grown 

And swift the seasons speed their course, 
That bear us both along 



From scenes depicted in these lines 
Of reminiscent song. 

And, now, good friend, a hearty wish. 

And expectation, too, 
That>you so live you can delight 

In scenes your boyhood knew • 

And that you reach, at last, beyond 
Earth's changes and its noise, 

Serener joys than those we had 
When you and I were boys ! 


GOD bless the land where I was born, 
And played, a happy child, 
Ere yet I saw a Southern swamp, 
Or roamed a Western wild ; 
And where, within a cot among 
The Massachusetts hills, 


My early being was attuned 
By cadence of the rills. 

O could I be forgiven, did 

My heart not turn to thee, 
With gratitude and pride, dear land, 

For all thou art to me ! 
Thine atmosphere and scenery, 

Thy present and thy past : 
Thy trials first, and glory now. 

To last while time shall last ? 

And, in the future of my life, 
Where'er my pathway lies, 

Whatever lot is meted out, 

Or kind, or cold, my skies ; 

Still, evermore, my song, at home, 
Or on a foreign strand, 

Through life, and at the honest hour- 
God bless my native land ! 


SO bold, should one of you accuse 
That some sweet girl inspires my muse, 
To all the rest it would be news, 
But not to me. 

The maiden never tells the fact 
By any word or any act, 
Evincing such consummate tact 
To keep it hid, 

She is not reckoned on the list 
Of those who try to " keep it whist," 
And in the search she might assist 
And none surmise 

There was a reason for the zest 
Wherewith she aided in the quest 
To which the searchers had addressed 
Their skill in vain. 


Keeping the secret a little more, 
We twain, as others have before, 
Will seek the parson's friendly door, 
And tell it there ' 


MAIDEN discreet, I give thee praise 
For words select and comely ways. 
And wish thee many joyous days, 
And worthy friends. 

May Honor win, by grand address, 
The blissful good of thy caress, 
And True Love come, thy heart to bless, 
And Hope to cheer. 

For all like thee discreetly kind 
May every cloud be silver-lined ; 
For them be thornless roses twined, 
And evergreen ! 


FULL oft the stars have heard thee say 
Thou think'st him grand and true, 
Yet never hast thou dared to hope 
That he would love thee too. 

To thee, unconscious of thy charms, 

Unthinking of thy worth, 
'Twas wonder that, for him, thy love 

Should make a heaven of earth. 

Thou winsome one, sincere and sweet, 

So frank, and yet so coy, — 
If strange it seems, yet 'tis not strange 

Thy love should give him joy ! 


COME, happy bird of sweetest note, 
Blithe bird of brightest wing, 
Of one who close resembles thee 
Thy choicest matin sing. 

"come, happy bird. 149 

She charms her home, as thou thy bower, 

With liquid warblings sweet, 
And marks each hour with words sincere 

And winsome ways discreet. 

Sing, bird, so bravely and so well 
That one who seeks her hand 

Shall be inspired to speak and act 
The bravest in the land. 

For only thus shall he attain 

To favor in her eyes, 
Who but withholds, that he may win, 

What he esteems a prize ; 

While hers is modest estimate 
Of worth she may possess, 

As thine, sweet warbler, of thy songs. 
His listening ears that bless. 

50 - "prize thou thyself. 

Come, happy bird of sweetest note, 
Blithe bird of brightest wing, 

Of one who close resembles thee 
Thy choicest matin sing ! 


O blest with innocence and health, 
And wisdom far above thy years, 
Who hast not felt heart-rending griefs, 
Nor wept the bitter, scalding tears, — 

Exquisite maiden, whose bright ways 
Are pride of her who thee did bear, 

And who, these years, with tender hand, 
Hath nurtured thee with fondest care,- 

Prize thou thyself, thy kindred prize, 
Thy home and all its quiet joys ; 

And keep thee, much as in thee lies, 
From earth's frivolity and noise. 

"prize thou thyself. 151 

Cherish the gift of thy good sense, 

And do thou bravely live and keep 
Thy soul from all that causes shame 

And makes the watching angels weep ! 

For thee, God grant the kindest skies, 
For thee, sincerest, noblest friends ; 

For thee, all earth's substantial good, 
And heaven, when earth's ordeal ends. 

For him whose worth deserves thy heart, 
And whose brave ways thy heart shall win, 

May brightest stars benignant beam, 
For him, and all his noble kin. 

O, blest with innocence and health, 
And wisdom far above thy years, 

Thy heart be long unknown to grief, 
And long thine eyes unknown to tears ! 


GOD, the griefs I may not tell 
Help me in silence bear, 
And grant thy child the faith to feel 
He has a Father's care ! 

The faith of patience that can wait 

Till providences prove 
The things that seemed unkindest fate 

Were evidence of love. 

Grant him the faith to see Thy hand 

In each untoward event 
And all he cannot understand 

Believe in mercy sent ; 

The faith to see through storms arise 
The waving wealth of grain 

That, ripened by benignant skies, 
Shall all the storms explain , 


The faith to see through darkest night 

The radiance of the morn, 
Effulgent from the gates of light 

The happy hills adorn, 

Inspiring birds and brooks to sing 

The minstrelsy of love, 
And men to learn that everything 

Is ordered from above. 

O God, when griefs 1 may not tell 

Are more than I can bear, 
O Thou who doest all things well, 

Grant me a Father's care ! 


ACCEPT, selectest man I know, 
Who met my sadder years, 
And all unmindfull of thy griefs, 
Wast mindful of my tears ; 


Whose kindness, when but few were kind, 

And noble gentleness, 
Came so refreshingly to me, 

And royally did bless ; 

Accept the gratitude, too small, 

My heart would offer thee, 
For thine example and thine aid 

So freely granted me ; 
The heartiest words and kindest deeds, 

Wisely, yet freely, given, 
Imparting to my bitterest hours 

A foretaste of my heaven. 

Once, scorned by those whom I had blest, 

And doubted for my trust, 
My pleasant plans were broken all, 

My hopes were in the dust. 
Then thou didst cheer me — blessed hour ! 

And sacred be the spot 
When earth's ignoble men are both 

Forgiven and forgot ! 


AWAY from doubts that chill and blight, 
Into the joy of faith's clear light, 
Far from the doubts that chill and blight, 

Come to the sunshine bringing bloom, 
For the rose there's always room ; 
Come to the sunshine bringing bloom, 

Into the sunshine of belief 

Lead thou the stricken sons of grief, 

Into the sunshine of belief ; 

Into the sunshine, with a song, 

To cheer their faltering steps along ; 

Into the sunshine with a song. 

Give them the sunshine of your trust ; 
If they have joy you surely must 
Bestow the sunshine of your trust. 


Abundantly to them impart 

The sunshine of a generous heart ; 

Full and free to them impart. 

Live in the sunshine while you live, 
And unto all your sunshine give ; 
Live in the sunshine while you live. 

Into the sunshine when you die ; 
Into the sunshine, through the sky — 
Beyond the sunshine, when you die ! 

Beyond the sunshine and the sun, 
Where thou, with all thy toiling done, 
In that good land beyond the sun, 

Beyond the doubts that chill and blight, 
Shalt dwell in the unceasing light, 
Beyond the doubts that chill and blight ! 


CELESTIAL one, who canst inspire 
With wisdom to attune the lyre, 
If hither shall incline thy wing, 
Come, heavenly muse, and aid to sing; 
That, haply, thus the song may tell 
The truth that solves life's problem well, 
The truth which rightly shall explain 
The mystery of grief and pain 
That darkens days of every year 
Of all the troubled journey here, 
Through scene, in which, or brief or wide. 
Who fares through it shall ills betide ! 
That course extends where thistles grow 
And noxious airs unceasing blow ; 
Through desert where, by day and night, 
Hyenas haunt and fiends affright 
And challenge to unequal fight 
Those who survive the previous way 
Where unchained lions prowl for prey! 

And yet, above this scene there flies 
The sweetest bird from Paradise : 


'Tis named the bird of hope below, 
And given the ken our lives to know ; 
Kind acts alone, and righted wrong, 
Awake for men this warbler's song! 
And when it sings the skies give ear 
That they the dulcet notes may hear ; 
And fly, at Charity's commands, 
From heaven to earth, the radiant bands 
Of angels missioned to attend 
When man to brother man is friend. 
Intent to bless the helpful deed 
That mortals do for those in need, 
When love inspires the bird to sing, 
The full, melodious caroling 
They hear, and speed on bravest wing. 

Affrighted by that song of cheer, 

Then flee the fiends that hovered near, 

Aware it augurs near at hand 

The powers their might cannot withstand. 

And life's wild desert comes to be 

A land of sweet fertility, 

Where pleasant groves, and verdant hills, 


And songsters blithe, and joyous rills, 

Give foretaste of the land above 

Where dwelleth the Eternal Love 

That sent the wondrous Christ to earth, 

To teach mankind the priceless worth 

And beauty of unselfishness, 

And show how godlike 'tis to bless ! 

In days when pilgrims had been brave 

And conquered all who battle gave, 

The fiends, enraged to think it true 

Twelve months since fiend a pilgrim slew, 

Assembled that they plan to slay 

Whoever next should take his way 

Along the dangerous, desert road 

Whereon, of old, Apollyon trode. 

And Doubt, the monster known as Fear, 

Sat eminent, and Hate was near, 

With score of impish Jealousies. 

And sneaking Slander, versed in lies, 

And Selfishness, and Envy came, 

With lesser fiends that have no name. 


And Fear they chose and clad him well 
With mail that was annealed in hell, 
And armed him with a heavy blade 
That seemed for some dread business made. 
And more did they appoint, to guard, 
That pilgrim should not press too hard 
Their champion, furnished for the fight, 
Who seemed himself a host could fright. 

The morrow's morn the retinue 
Before their chief pass in review, 
And, taking chains for Fear to bind 
His victim, if his greed inclined, 
They march away and soon descry 
A man of pilgrim panoply; 
One in whose face, if fiends could learn 
To read such mien, they might discern, 
Beneath the sweet, exquisite grace, 
Speaking almost an angel's face, 
The power foretelling their defeat 
Who dared his trusty blade to meet. 
Yet him they venture to assault. 


And pay most dearly for the fault. 
Six guards the pilgrim conquered soon 
And others routed at high noon, 
When fierce the towering fiend appeared, 
Derisive laughed and loudly jeered, 
And struck, as if a blow should spill 
The life scarce worth his while to kill ! 
The thrust quick parried, then the foe : 
" I, who have laid the bravest low, 
Swear now by yon meridian sun 
In one short hour thy warring's done ! " 
Yet he so fenced the blows away 
Whom Fear thought was an easy prey, 
Half down the sky the lustre stood 
Ere fiendish blade had tasted blood. 

And, with his wound, courageous grew 
The man, the conflict to renew ; 
And yet, though well he bore the blows 
Dealt by the fiend, whose fury rose 
Till glowed his face aflame with rage 
That such brave war the man could wage, 
As o'er the scene the anxious sky 


Noted the passioned hours go by, 
The warrior's surely ebbing might 
Showed he must yield, at last, the fight, 
And nature sighed in grief to see 
The fiend was gaining mastery. 

When sad the sunset closed the day 

That trembled with the mighty fray, 

Deep-hewn by Fear and left in bands, 

To perish on Doubt's desert sands, 

His wounds proclaimed that long and well 

The hero battled ere he fell. 

Yet he, though brave, was vanquished still, 

With spirit crushed and broken will, 

And fitting were the sombre skies 

In which it seemed no sun could rise ! 

Responsive to the sufferer's moans, 

The wild waste thrilled with thunder tones, 

Yet rains blessed not those desert airs — 

There are no tears for some despairs ! 

Yet no despairs but some kind deed 
Would meet the saddened spirit's need — 


Revive the dying heart to tears 

And strength to rout the worst of fears, 

Or hold the cruel foes at bay 

Till there good angels take their way. 

And, in that brave man's night of doubt, 

From which the stars were blotted out, 

A night through which alone could see 

High-visioned soul of Charity, 

A gracious act and hearty word 

Awoke for him hope's happy bird, 

Whose singing put his foe to flight, 

That, lingering in the murky night, 

Did gleeful laugh at every sigh 

That spoke the sufferer's wish to die ! 

A stranger o'er that desert way 
Came where the panting sufferer lay, 
Knelt like a brother at his side 
And tried to staunch the ruddy tide, 
And, ere the wounded man could ask, 
Proffered him water from his flask. 
The hero drank, his thirst to slake, 


And thus, in heartfelt whispers, spake : 
" Grateful that Providence did send, 
For thy coming, I thank thee, friend. 
Searching if other havoc made 
By that dread monster's wicked blade, 
Bestow thy further blessing there 
Till angels shall relieve thy care. 
And I am safe ; a bird doth sing ! 
They come; I hear an angel's wing ! " 
Passed then whom he saw not before, 
And here he never saw him more, 
But heard that, full of years and faith, 
He crossed the river men call death. 

And through that midnight to the plains, 
To oint his wounds and loose his chains 
Whom first a human friend addressed. 
Whom first a man had cheered and blessed, 
The bright ones of the pitying skies 
Came swift of wing for such emprise, 
And clusters brought from heavenly vine, 
High-cultured for the feasts divine. 


Of these he ate, and peaceful slept, 
The while the angels vigil kept, 
Until, o'er eastern hills, there came 
The flushes of a rosy flame, 
And Orient gave a morn that glows 
In memory bright as when it rose 
With Heaven's high approval smiled 
On every feature of the wild ! 

The desert greened to grassy glades, 
Wherein, to cadence of cascades, 
By happy brooks and blessed with shades, 
That, frequent as the hero's needs, 
Were flecked along the flowery meads, 
His heart harmonious with the day, 
He fared with gladsomeness his way ; 
To each entrancing scene and song 
Awake, and yet sustained and strong, 
And not o'ercome by sudden boon, 
That still came not the least too soon, 
Surveying, with emotions due, 
Earth still the same yet grandly new ! 


And he for whom that radiance shone, 

Unselfish by its sweetness grown, 

And deeming all his trials sent 

Of Heaven for his development, 

Is given a truer, keener ken 

To read the wants of wretched men, 

An ear attentive to their grief, 

A ready hand for their relief, 

And voice that wakes for them a bird 

Like that whose song his darkness heard. 

And, brighter than his morning rose, 
Meridian joy serenely glows 
O'er him, for whom no fateful night 
Shall interpose between the light 
Of sunset and the heavenly day, 
Where faith's sublimest splendors play 
And ever shines the golden worth 
Of deeds of kindness done on earth ! 

There, radiant with celestial grace, 
Smiles now the well remembered face 


Of him he saw but once before ; 
Resplendent on the other shore, 
The one who blessed his desert night 
Is reigning with the sons of light ! 

There, thrilling the angelic lyres, 
Delight of all the heavenly choirs, 
The song of hope that once he heard, 
The carol of the joyous bird 
That charmed the midnight of the plains, 
When angels came to loose his chains I 

They thought to con the numbers high, 
To aid the anthems of the sky ; 
And that glad song, to cheer him, given, 
Is evermore a hymn of heaven, 
Harmonious with the rhythmic spheres 
And cadence of the eternal years ! 


WHEN thou who lovest well thy kind 
Despairing ones shall chance to find, 

Be their relief thy best delight, 

And lead them forth from doubt's dark night, 

Beyond the miasmatic breath 
Coursing along doubt's vale of death, 

To sunny hills where roses bloom 

And faith's clear light dispels the gloom; 

Where they shall hear the chorusing 
Of all the sweetest birds that sing, 

And sweetest brooks that ever sung, 

Since brooks, and birds, and time were young 

Shall purl and sparkle in the light 
Succeeding unto sorrow's night ! 


Then ever shall a voice for thee 
Sing hope-inspiring minstrelsy 

Far sweeter than the singing heard 
From any brook or any bird 

In happiest glen of all the world, 

And like the brooks that joyous purled 

In Eden when the earth was young 
And all the stars together sung ! 

And dost thou doubt, and point to men 
Who bless and are not blessed again, 

But live in grief, and grieving die 
Of much bestowing charity ? — 

Perhaps not here, yet in some clime, 
Perhaps not now, yet some good time 

Of God's sure years, shall greet the eye 
That moistens here with sympathy, 


Scenes bright as those the seer of eld 
Entranced on Patmos isle beheld, 

When full the radiant glories shone 
From gates, and temple, and the Throne 


THE thought of thee and thine gives cheer, 
And aids that I the nobler be ; 
And that thou holdest thine so dear, 

Enhances thee and thine to me : 
Thy mother, sweeter for her years, 

A sister beaming with delight, 
And with thee, one whom love endears, 
And clustering offspring, good and bright ! 

And when thou tellest me, with pride, 
How nobly toiled thy mother, erst, 
That hers with her might all abide, 


And foiled, with widow's hands the worst 
That fortune and false friends could do 
To break the circle of her home ; 
I glow with thee, that she was true, 
And wish her bright, good years to come ! 


W r HEN William Williams walks abroad 
He trips along so proud, 
And steps so dainty on the street 
Rude people laugh aloud. 

These lines expressive of regret 
That they should think to scorn 

The man for whom the earth was made 
And stars the skies adorn ! 

For whom the Summer solstice burns; 

For whom the Winter's cold. 
The verdure of the pleasant Spring, 

And autumn's red and gold ! 


A man of ancient family, 

Whom heraldry correct 
Points backward to a crown and throne, 

Through ancestry direct. 

And, still, when Williams walks abroad 

lie has a gait so proud, 
And steps so dainty on the street, 

The rude will laugh aloud ! 


IMPERIAL moves the lofty one 
Along the Fashion street, 
His head in pain from hitting stars, 

While boys with laughter greet 
His supercilious presence cold 

And manners of the sky ; 
The common folk award him space, 
And clogs his coming fly ! 

Proud peacocks, jealous^ of his style, 
Have much discussed a plan 


To free -hemselves, and rid the earth, 

Of this sublimest man. 
May heavenly powers their hatred thwart, 

And o-vol their mighty ire, 
Spare him from griefs of common men 

And from the final fire ! 

Give him jbove a lofty seat, 

And caution Gabriel well 
To quench such jealousy as plunged 

Prince Lucifer to hell; 
Old Lucifer, who fell from power 

At less offending pride 
Than that by which, if this one rise, 

Good Gabriel will be tried! 


OVV happy, sparkling in the sun, 
Down hills the brooklets sing, 
When April warms the flowers to life 
And birds are on the wing. 


Though fervid glows the solar orb, 

On torrid summer days, 
Yet brief its reign ere earth is blest 

With milder autumn rays. 

Serene October days, how pure, 
How choice the joys ye bring, 

In foliage bright and ripened grain, 
Fulfillment of the spring! 

And welcome is the later sun 
That cheers November's gloom, 

With foretaste, in t the dying year, 
Of coming breath and bloom. 

Ye dearest " Indian summer " days, 
Of that brief, golden time, 

Imparting, ere the winter's snows, 
Choice tints to autumn's rime ; 

Though sad the memories that ye bring 
Of wrongs by Indians clone, 

Poetic period of the year, 
Live on, while lives the sun ! 


And sing who will December drear : 

Oft in its coldest days 
Sweet hours of brightest sunshine come, 

Inspiring warmest praise 

To Him who, all the seasons through, 

Apportions, with kind care, 
The wind and calm, the rain and snow, 

And varied dark and glare — 


That earth be blest with bud and bloom, 

And yield abundant grain, 
And mortals find each season good, 

With nothing made in vain. 



ITH equal hand impartial Heaven 

Bestows on all the blessings given 
To cheer the earth. 

If birds that bless the morns of spring 
Alone at regal courts would sing, 
We might complain. 


But everywhere, from hill to shore, 
The joyous warblers artless pour 
Their songs for all. 

As grateful thine anemones 
And all the perfumed potencies 
Thy rose exhales 

As odors they of kingly kind, 
Empurpled in a palace, find 
The flower to yield 

That grew by royal gardener dressed, 
And bloomed with smiles of princess blessed y 
On sacred days. 

Nor sweeter sounds than you or I, 
Hears king or Croesus, walking by 
The purling brook ; 

Nor, navied in their gilded boats, 
Than we embarked in common floats, 
More restful plash 

THE EQUAL LOl. 1 77 

Of wave ; nor surer they to ride 
In safety to the haven side 
Of waters sailed. 

Nor king than we has sweeter hymn 
Of Zephyr ; nor doth Sunset limn 
Diviner west 

For king, with hues from heavenly fount; 
Nor truer is the royal count 
Of stars than thine 

To His who outlined nature's plan 
And reared the astral arch, to span 
The universe ! 


THOU selfish one who seekest heaven 
Through fear of final fire, 
And never had for heaven itself 
The first sincere desire, 


Supreme unselfishness aione 

Can for the skies prepare. 
And he alone may hope for heaven 

Who loveth what is there. 

Thou asking God to grant the boon 
Thou hast not tried to win, 

Beseeching His forgiving grace 
Yet never hating sin, 

And. coward, whining for the heaven 
Where only brave souls are — 

Wherever in the realms of space 
Revolves that happy star. 

The object of the good man's hope 

And goal of all his quest, 
Bright sphere of life, and growth, and joy, 

And work that giveth rest — 

That place of earth is nearest heaven 

Where the unselfish dwell, 
And where there is but selfishness 

There needs no other hell ! 


And thou who cleemest 'tis decreed, 

By mandate of thy God, 
That thou be favored in His sight 

And spared the fateful rod, 

Which thou dost think is wholly right 

For those despised by thee, 
And therefore doomed by Him to wrath 

To all eternity, — 

It was a fratricide declared 

His brother not his care, 
And he alone is sure of heaven 

Who leads another there ! 

Go thou, like Christ, and strive to save 

Another than thyself ; 
For hoarding up salvation is 

As base as hoarding pelf. 

And when, like His, thy life shall bless 

Thy suffering fellowmen, 
Then thou, by Him, art saved thyself, 

And art condemned till then ! 


Supreme unselfishness alone 
Can for the skies prepare, 

And he alone is fit for heaven 
Who leads another there. 


WELCOME though an urban heaven 
To the people of the Eld, 
Living where the cities only 

Any real safety held 
From the prowling wolves and lions 

And the roving robber bands 
That produced a reign of terror 
In those wild and desert lands, — 

Irksome now an urban heaven, 

With its mansions a la mode 
And the people dressed in costume 

For the visiting by code, 
And the sainted hosts parading, 

To the clangor of a band, 
'Mid the burning splendors blazing 

In the city of the errand ! 

A hero's grave. 181 

And whatever the engagements 

Of inhabitants above, 
They may "vilipend the formulas" 

And occasionally rove 
Irrespective of prescriptions 

That the formalists have given, 
To instruct the saints and angels 

In the etiquette of heaven ! 


A CHRISTIAN, comrade, son and friend 
Is slumbering 'neath this sod ; 
His form is there, his name with us, 
His spirit with his God. 

Fit place it is for hero's grave, 

Where mountain zephyrs play, 
Where fair ones bring the choicest flowers 

And good men come to pray. 


To designate his sepulchre 
We raise this shaft, but trust 

His deeds shall live when monuments 
Are mouldered into dust ! 



HERE is for all a starlit road 

Whereon, by heavenly grace bestowed, 
They reach the skies, 

Who heed the truth the spirit gives 
That talks with every man that lives, 
To guide aright, 

Interpreting what nature means 
By all the myriad sounds and scenes 
That fill the world, 

And will, if he doth will, explain 
The scope of earth, and boundless main, 
And heaven itself. 


ABOVE the grandeur of the sunsets 
Which delight this earthly clime 
And the splendors of the dawnings 

Breaking o'er the hills of time, 
Is the richness of the radiance 
Of the land beyond the sun, 
Where the noble have their country 
When the work of life is done ! 

There is the mysterious problem 

Of their earthly life made plain, 
All the bitter turned to sweetness, 

All the losses turned to gain. 
There the rapture of the new life 

Far exceeds the griefs of this, 
And earth's toiling is forgotten 

In the restfulness of bliss. 

And the music of their welcome, 

From angelic lyres of gold, 
Shall full often be repeated, 

Yet it never shall grow old ; 

184 "where the noble have their country 

Music grander than earth's noblest, 
Than all eloquence of words 

And the sweetest of the carols 
Of the gladdest of the birds S 

Far removed and freed forever 

From the artifice of time, 
Shall the noble of that country, 

In the real of that clime, 
Read the wisdom of the Father, 

From whose all-creating hand 
Are the beauties, and the glories, 

And the people of that land! 

There they rightly read the visions 

Of the ancient seers, that give 
Higher good than urban splendors 

Where the saints at last shall live : 
Where they surely find a heaven 

Not conventional or made, 
And inhabitants delighting 

In the hillside, brook and shade ! 

"where the noble have their country." 185 

For magnificent with forests 

Is that country of the skies, 
Far excelling in their bird-songs 

All the earthly minstrelsies. 
And that country hath its mountains 

And is resonant with streams 
That are sweeter in their music 

Than the rivers of our dreams ! 

Blooms of finest form and lustre, 

Fragrant on the eternal hills, 
With their odors bless the zephyrs, 

That, harmonious with the rills, 
Sing, to give the angels pleasure 

Who were fit to sing the birth 
Of the Savior of the sorrowing 

And the sinful of the earth. 

And, His mission there completed, 
He shall reign with them above 

And instruct them in the wonders 
Of the country of his love, 


Where He giveth them an entrance 
And that higher work to do 

That shall keep them ever growing, 
And the charm of living new. 

And His name throughout the ages, 

As the aeons circle by, 
To the trend and the cadence 

Of their own eternity, 
Shall be theme and inspiration 

In the land bevo'i ! the sun, 

J 7 

Where the noble have their country 
When the work of life is done i 


Othou who dost win 
In the conflict with sin 
And who art net vain of the winning 

But, brave for the right 

At the close of each fight 

As thou wast so brave at beginning, 


Dost modestly wear, 

What thou holdest with care, 

The laurel of freedom from sinning, 

Continue thy zest 

Though arbors of rest 

Invite from thy noble endeavor ; 

And battle thy foes 

Till thy warring shall close, 

And thou art a victor forever. 


THE fight with doubt is ended, 
And, victor through Thy grace, 
To Him who has defended 
I render heartfelt praise, 

That, helped by Christ's example, 
And giving heaven his trust, 

When strode the foe to trample 
A victim in the dust, 

"thou art the man. 

His shafts of malice sending 
Envenomed with hot rage, 

And fierce with greed for rending 
Who dared the war to wage, 

On shield of faith receiving 
The darts the demon sent 

And in that sword believing 
That never futile went, 

He routed there the demon, 

By aid of grace divine. 
Who, now, by faith a freeman, 

Proclaims the glory Thine. 


Suspicious one, " will I confess ? " 
Nay, I will boast, not as you guess, 
Her maiden heart intent to bless, 
She gave in one inspiring kiss, 
The joy for worlds I would not miss. 
And should your eye find ill in this, 

nature's moods. 189 

And think that happy, guileless one, 
Though she were quick yourself to shun, 
Would from your accusation run, — 
Who hath within, would he but scan, 
Bane worse than all inflicted ban ? — 
Suspicious one, thou art the man ! 


POWERLESS are nature's moods to voice 
The soul's extremities 
Of woe, and powerless they to speak 
Its highest ecstasies. 

When he who bravely gives a heart 

And longs for love's return 
Discovers that the one he seeks 

Delights his love to spurn, 

The wailing winds are not enough 

To chant the spirit's grief, 
And meagre the significance 

Of autumn's faded leaf ! 

igo nature's moods. 

For what the requiem of winds, 
And what the frosts that blight 

November days, when life to him 
Is one December night ! 


Can moaning winds through forests bare 
When night has not a star, — 

Can barrenness of desert drear, 
Bleak, desolate and far 

From haunts of birds and homes of men 
With children's voices glad, — 

Can any scene of earth proclaim 
How wretched and how sad, 

How sore discomfited the one 
Who woos and wins, to find 

That love, which should inspire and aid, 
Has forged a chain to bind 

In thrall more cruel than defeat- — 
Ah, loyalty that learns 

nature's moods. 191 

How worse the tyranny that holds 
Than haughtiness that spurns! 


Not all the breath and burgeoning 
That brings the bird whose lay, 

When winter's reign of wrath is done, 
With joy inspires the May; 

Nor apple bloom, nor rarest rose, 

Nor most melodious tune 
Of all the harmonies that thrill 

The joyous days of June ; 

Nor waving wealth of wheaten fields 
That crowns the summer tide, 

Nor hues in which October sees 
The forests glorified, 

Can tell the greatest, sweetest bliss 
That ever gladdened earth, 

His joy who gives a heart, and wins 
A heart to prize his worth ! 


NATURE rebukes presumptuous men, 
And yet invites the constant ken 
Of reverent souls. 

And still the words the Master saith, 
Who came of old from Nazareth, 
Nature repeats : 

Consider thou the lilies well, 
O man, who thinkest thou canst tell 
Their coloring, 

And all the processes divine 
Wherein the primal hues combine 
That beauty give, 

And tell the fragrances that meet 
To make those rarest odors sweet 
That lilies shed. 

Consider thou the lilies well, 
O man, who thinkest thou canst tell 
What lilies are — 

"where nature reigns. 193 

Perfections from the alchemies 
Wherein the chemists of the skies 
Have wrought their best ! 

And lilies not alone meant He 
Who taught, on hills of Galilee, 
Their loveliness. 

But all the flowers that decked the field 
For Him did sweetest pleasure yield, 
And theme for thought. 

And, eloquent above thy speech, 
The flowers will still their ethics teach, 
O man of earth, 

As when to prove his doctrine true, 
In Palestine, the Teacher drew 
From Nature's store. 

And, mortal, thou canst ever find, 
If well instructed is thy mind 
By heavenly power, 


Such high renewal of thy might. 
Such inspiration and delight, 
And rest, and peace, 

In thinking on the works of God, 
From tiny twig and velvet sod 
To mountain peak, 

As thou in thine ambitious schemes, 
Fulfilled unto thy brightest dreams. 
Canst never find ! 

Where nature reigns distinctions fade 
That pride may bring to grove and glade 
To flaunt them there. 

Rank has no sway at nature's court, 
And Fame is there of small import, 
And pelf is scorned. 

To thee as kindly welcome wave 
The elms as unto prince they gave 
Who fared that wav ; 


And wild and tender harmony 
The pensive pines address to thee 
As unto all, 

And breathe balsamic airs of health 
Uncaring for their rank and wealth 
Who seek the boon. 

The quiet beauty of the beech 

To thee as unto all will teach, 

If thou wilt learn, 

The loveliness of real worth, 
Whatever station in the earth 
The worthy have. 

Thou canst the graceful tasseling 
That decks the birchen boughs of spring 
As well enjoy 

Uncrowned, untitled and unknown, 
ugh instated on 
Of kingly power, 

As though instated on a throne 

ig6 "where nature reigns. 3 

Commanding hosts whose flags unfurled 
Should win obeisance from the world 
To that great name 

Whereof ambition falsely tells 
Till fond imagination dwells 
Thereon inthralled ! 

To thee as grand the oaks that hold 
Converse with crags of mountain bold, 
Anent the storms. 

As unto royalty they seem ; 
And for thine eyes as brightly gleam 
The sumacs gay 

As for the monarch who desires 
To imitate their scarlet fires 
On robes he wears 

But finds that futile is the sleight 
:gs to deck themse 
As nature shines ! 

Of kings to deck themselves as bright 

"where nature reigns. 197 

Contrasting with the snowy lands, 
As sombre-hued the hemlock stands 
To symbolize 

Thy grief, as though the dark, cold green, 
Sighing, bemoaned with northland queen 
Her consort dead. 

Impartially, when April breath 
Proclaims the winter's reign of death 
Is at its end, 

The maple buds portend the June 
Whose leaves shall cool the torrid noon 
Of summer time 

And ripen till the autumn days 
With red and golden glories blaze, 
Aglow from heaven. 

As bright the miracle where hills 
Of freedom hear New England rills 
In ceaseless song 


As where, to Midian tree, the flame 
Prophetic for the Hebrew came, 
By God's command, 

To teach the Moses of that time 
To lead his brethren to the clime 
Long promised them. 

The same, but still contrasts the fire 
That freedom's modern bards inspire, 
With that of old— 

The first proclaiming good to be, 
While this announces liberty 
Already won. 


AWAY from things conventional 
Man finds from nature given 
Equipment for the toil of earth 
And for the work of heaven. 

BEYOND. 199 

Impatience is reproved to see, 

If but impatience scan, 
His work who calmly ordereth 

Nature's unhurried plan. 

The equipoise that reason needs 

Is found by brook and shade ; 
There stimulus for thought, and there 

Devotion's kindest aid. 

And, thence aspiring, faith descries, 

Beyond the mystic stream, 
Amid celestial groves, the towers 

Of heavenly mansions gleam, 

Where nature and The Book proclaim 

The good shall find their rest, 
And hears, on heavenly zephyrs borne, 

The anthems of the blest, 

And hears the song *of joyous brooks 
That glad the eternal hills 

2 00 A ROSE. 

Whereon the flowers bloom whose breath 
The better country fills 

With sweets ambrosial, for the saints 

Perfected by the strife 
And by the bitterness of earth 

For the sublimer life I 


EYOND the single rose he sought 
She piled the offering high 
Of lily, pink and jessamine, 
And larkspurs of the sky, 

Until the gift, full antidote, 
For all his grief and strife, 

Led him to bless, with that she gave, 
Another troubled life. 

And words for his bestowment said 
Were finer fragrance far 


Than concentrated odors breathed 
From all the lilies are ! 

Ah lady, acts like thine shall bloom 

In choicest beauty where 
The sweetness from the heavenly plains 

Perfumes the sentient air. 


THOUGH the highest, the best, and the sweetest, 
Achieved by the loving of earth, 
Is little compared with the transport 
Of loving where love had its birth, 

With the rapturous blisses of loving, 
In the region of love in the skies, 

Where affection is breath, and devotion 
The motive and goal of emprise,— 


Yet the highest and sweetest hereafter, 
Of the wondrous delights of love, 

Yet the grandest of all the fruitions, 
Of love in the land above, 

Shall be heightened and brightened forever 
At thoughts of the loving below, — 

Shall be heightened and brightened in heaven, 
Where loving intenser shall grow 

By the memories, there, of the mating 
Of the kindred pure spirits on earth, 

With the foretaste at first of fruition 
Of love in the land of its birth. 


THE arbutus left its fragrance 
To last the springtime through, 
And fill the earth with perfume 
Until June's roses grew. 


And zephyrs sweet with odors 
Her promise took above, 

To whisper to the angels 
The secret of her love. 

The golden-rod has blossomed, 
The summer-tide is high ; 

Return the airs from heaven, 
And glows the joyous sky 

With hope that when October 
Is glad with gold and red, 

Shall be fulfilled the promise 
Amid the roses said. 


O TRIAL days that come to test 
The loyalty of love ; 
How seem allied the earth and hell 
And all the powers above, 


In strange combining, to defeat 
The heart that seeks to hold 

Its course unswerving from the one 
To whom the troth was told. 

Rare vows they were in sober life, 
When pledges were imbued 

With wisdom that experience gave, 
And found the fire renewed 

Of early passion of the soul 
Ere trusting love had known 

Its first defeat, and bright with hope 
Life's radiant morning shone. 

And then, as first, the thrush and lark 

Poured their united strain 
In high confession that the song 

To voice the joy is vain, 

When hearts in love their pledges make 
And all the skies approve, — 

O trial days that come to test 
The loyalty of love ! 


IF torrid glare should come to burn 
To crisp this tempered zone, 
And verdant vales to desert turn, 
And hot siroccos moan 

Through forests leafless on the hills 

That once with herbage fed 
The fattening flocks that drank the rills 

Where grass and streams are dead — 

Not even this could indicate 

The desert of that day 
When Doubt usurped the throne where Fate 

Had driven Love away ! 

If rivers burst from desert sands, 

That in their gracious flow 
Should stimulate the arid lands 

Till rose and wheat should grow, 


And kine contented drink and feed 
Where clover-blooms bedecked 

And richest verdure greened the mead 
With frequent coppice flecked, 

And trees of noblest umbrage rise, 
Wherein the birds should sing 

As if commissioned from the skies 
Their highest notes to bring, 

And angel ministrants descend 

With golden harps of song, 
And angel, brook and warbler blend, 

The anthem to prolong, 

Till earth with minstrelsy should thrill, 

And peoples of the earth 
Should catch the songs the land that fill 

Where music had its birth, 

And came the full millennial dawn, 
The blessed thousand years, 


With men and angels rapt upon 
The cadence of the spheres — 

The scene would scarcely then display 

The change from ban to bliss, 
From grief that darked that other day 

To joy that crowneth this ! 

For, reinstated, regnant, strong, 

Love hath his rightful throne, 
To which a realm with wreath and song 

Their glad allegiance own. 

And near him Virtue premier stands, 

And Valor clad in mail, 
Whose shafts from his unerring hands 

Make all the foemen quail. 

And Honor, regal as the sun, 

Is clad in lustrous gold, 
And Mercy, swift, delights to run 

And saddened ones enfold 


In shelter built at Love's behest 

In gratitude to Heaven, 
That hath rewarded thus his quest 

By fullest empire given. 

And Wisdom there, whose sapient eye 
Discerns the thoughts of men, 

And all the powers are guided by 
The prescience of her ken. 

And reverent all the princes bow 
Enraptured with the theme, 

" Let all the hosts do worship now, 
For Love is king supreme ! " 

And harvests wave, and zephyrs chant, 
And bird and tuneful stream, 

That none the monarch shall supplant, 
For Love is King supreme. 

And written on the cope of heaven, 
To verify the dream, 


The sign the mighty God has given, 
That Love shall reign supreme 

Till consummation is attained 
In that great realm above, 

Where mysteries are all explained 
By Him whose name is Love ! 



E zephyrs ! bring the odors sweet 
That on your fragrant way ye meet 

Where all the rarest blooms combine 
To make the air so near divine 

It seems as if to earth were given 
The flavors of the hills of heaven ! 

But can ye tell her breath who came 
To wake his heart to purest flame 

That ever burned in Valor's breast 
When fortune smiled upon his quest ? 


Her words were music, ways were grace, 
And calm on that expressive face 

There glowed the hope of summer skies ; 
While in the glancing of those eyes, 

Which heralded intensest kiss 
That ever warmed a heart to bliss, 

A spirit shone that would inspire 
The gods to their divinest fire ! 

And him it gave the wish to bless 
And lift from want and doubt's duress, 

Prompt when their need should indicate, 
Whom he should find unhorsed by Fate, 

On fields of the unequal strife 
That somewhere comes in every life. 

Ye airs ! excelling any word 
That earth or Eden ever heard ; 

NECTAR. 211 

Ye zephyrs ! chanting numbers high, 
To challenge harpers of the sky- 
Till they attempt sublimest song 
That ever thrilled the heavenly throng — 

Nor ye, nor they, can sing above 
The music of that wondrous love ! 


THE fools may laugh, the prudish quaff 
Their cups of pale, cold mist, 
And seem content with no more meant 
Than if two icebergs kissed ! 

Whoever thinks when Ellen drinks 

Her joy from Ronald's lips 
There's aught but love — that one above, 

At feasts where Juno sips 

212 NECTAR. 

The nectar high that cheers the sky- 
To its intensest glow, 

Would deem such fire a dark desire 
And think that airs that blow 

From Paradise bring ill device, 

And kiss by angel given 
Was wandering worse than that whose curse 

Sent Lucifer from heaven ! 

The fools may laugh, the prudish quaff 

Chill vapor of the morn, 
Affecting stress of righteousness 

Which doth affection scorn — 

Whoever thinks when Ronald drinks 

The joy by Ellen given 
It is not well, would find it hell 

If he should get to heaven ! 



WITHOUT, circumspect and sternly correct, 
With character showing not any defect, 
Thy coldness within no luring can win ; 
Pulseless, and therefore not given to sin ! 
Thou passionless one, what rivers can run 
Where coldness turns backward the rays of the sun ? 
From sinning though free, what credit to thee ? 
So frigid art thou the tempter would flee, 
Or, cold with concern, to ice-pillar turn 
Where fiercest the fervors of hades should burn ! 

With forcefullest will, and busied to kill 

The joy and the sweetness of others, until, 

A-tremble with dread, around thee they tread, 

With only the life to wish they were dead ! 

But cometh a day of contrasts that may 

Melt all thy cold virtues to nothing away. 

This warning dost spurn ? — its truth thou shalt learn 

Where fiercer the fervors of hades shall burn 

Than primal design of fiat divine — 

For hell would be chilled with a presence like thine ! 


THOU cause of universal wish 
That there were gloomier than the hell 
Wherein, apart from hope and peace, 

'Tis said the damned in darkness dwell, — 

Sinner compared with whose offence 
Seem other greater crimes but small, — 

Thou chemist of infernal wit 

Transforming sweetest joy to gall, 

And gloating o'er their bitterness 

Who lovers were and pure as breath 

Of roses in the air of June, 

And free of sin as heaven of death — 

I name thee Slanderer, and declare, 
With thee compared are cowards brave, 

The robber is an honest man, 

And kind who doth his kind enslave ! 


But why this wish concerning him 
Whose words to serpent tongues shall turn 

And thrust his soul whose thoughts they were, 
And sting as fiery caustics burn ? 

In retribution for the sin 

Of him who speaks the sland'rous words, 
Himself revealed unto himself 

The ample punishment affords. 


THOUGH poisoned word be never heard, 
To voice the base designing 
Ye contemplate on those ye hate, 
The thought does the maligning ! 

'Tis ever true, sin colors through 
And outward shows the staining 

Of sin within, where sins begin, 
And, slanderous words restraining, 


If ye nurse aught of slanderous thought, 
That thought the victim curses ; 

He vilifies by face and eyes, 
The evil thought who nurses. 

His fellow-man he giveth ban 
Who casts the look suspicious ; 

And if he praise, the cautious phrase, 
Rose-scented and judicious, 

Belittles worse than open curse 

Of enemy malignant ; 
And in his eyes are wily lies 

Although he beam benignant. 

These shall he send to vex and rend 
The one his shrewdness blesses ; 

They schooled the while to watch his smile, 
And kill whom he caresses. 


WHEN Tommy Trim at morning takes 
The pleasant train for town, 
He wears the kids and hat correct, 
To match his whiskers brown. 

And through the coaches every one, 

With equipoise of stride, 
He walks to throw from gorgeous eyes, 

Alternate to each side, 

The glance benignant that shall cheer 

Those waiting till he bless 
The hearts that thrill with agony 

For his high graciousness ! 

Ah, Tommy Trim ! remember well 

The years will quickly fly, 
And kids will fade and time will dim 

The lustre of the eye ! 


And other ones with lovelier face 
And tuft of finer brown, 

Will smile to win rewarding smiles 
From those who ride to town ; 

And none recall, dear Tommy Trim, 
The matchless orbs of thine, 

That beamed to cheer the other days 
With radiance benign ! 


OYE who hope to be forgiven, 
Yet scorn when others plead 
Your pardon in the name of heaven 
For ill, impulsive deed — 

Did not an ancient teacher say 

That God forgiveth none 
Who have not unto those who stray 

The full forgiveness shown ? 


And say that, unforgiven, ye 

Shall never reach the skies, 
That your forgiven frailty 

Your own salvation is ? 

Yet ye who need to be forgiven 

Refuse when others plead 
Your pardon in the name of heaven 

For an impulsive deed 

That ye, yourselves, might do, some hour, 

When fierce temptations came 
The high resolve to overpower 

And smirch the brightest name ! 

Assuming the infallible, 

Ye judge your brother man, 
With ease his degradation tell, 

And gladly mete the ban 

Your laws assign, that none too great 
Regard th' offender's good, 


While ye, unmoved, behold his fate, 
Demanding blood for blood ! 

And boastful, self-assured, ye flaunt 
Your worth as menace high, 

In cold, self-righteousness of taunt, 
When he to hope must die ! 

O who of all the unforgiven 

Do clemency so need 
\s those who ask the grace of heaven 

Yet scorn when others plead 

That they professing to be strong 
The helping hand should lend, — 

That they should overlook a wrong 
Who may themselves offend? 


TOY sings serenely in his heart 
Who lives devoted to the art 
Of helpfulness. 

And Joy for him shall ever sing, 
While all their days of greed shall bring 
To selfish men 

The dissonance of selfishness ; 
And discord, darkness, and duress, 
Their ultimate. 


WOULD ST thou thy gift should be of worth 
To him thou blessest in the earth, 
And, likewise, prove to thee a boon, 
The given staff, or loaf, or tune, — 
Then see thou well that no design 
Of selfishness, at date, be thine ; 
Nor, after, let that sordid prove 
Whose only origin was love. 


Bestow thy benisons, to tell 
Thy heart delighteth to do well ; 
Or, give unthinking, as the spring 
Sends out its wealth, or, on glad wing, 
The bird, as happy as the air, 
Pours forth its carols everywhere! 


DESPITE the darkness and the din, 
And all the tendencies to sin 
Thou findest here, 

Earth is the place and now the time, 
To win the boon of happy chime 
For that Beyond, 

Where, if thou bravely livest here, 
Thou shalt discern, with vision clear. 
The meaning high 

Of all the mysteries of earth, 
And find those things had real worth 
That useless seemed, 


And, grateful, thank the Eternal Mind 
That He, the Infinite, the Kind 
Hath planned it all ! 


T T /HEN", dominant by warring well, 

V V And in the fight grown strong, 
The soul reigns o'er the outer self 
That held it subject long, 

The calm serenity of bliss 

And purposes of good 
Prompt no extravagance of praise, 

To voice the gratitude 

For that ennoblement that is 
Too great for words to tell ; 

And boon and fitting thanks are both 
Best told by living well. 


OTHOU who bravely up the path 
Which frequent thorn of trouble hath, 
Steadfast didst try, 
If upward still thy courage climb 
Thy patience shall attain in time 
The summit of the height sublime 
From which thine eye, 

Unhindered by dense airs that blow 
To cloud morass of doubt below, 

Shall see fair ground 
Beyond the waters flowing cold, 
A country which doth richness hold 
Excelling that the men of old 

At Eshcol found. 

Sometime in exaltation spent 
Shall intervene ere thy descent 

At beck of sprite 
Whose barge shall bear thee o'er the tide 


To land thy vision hath descried — 
Nor shalt thou always there abide, 
Nor wish thou might. 

For, far from false and with the true, 
Thy youth renewed and vision new, 

Thou soon shalt be, 
To learn from features of that shore 
That they but prophesy of more 
And bid thine enterprise explore 

With ecstasy 

New continent, and seas, and isles, 
Whereon such radiant solstice smiles 

To cheer thy gaze 
That thou shalt think the brightest beams 
The former gave but faded gleams 
Of sunshine of forgotten dreams 

Of other days ! 

That land attained, thy study there 
Shall thee for further quest prepare, 


That shall allure ; 
And faring on, what thou shalt find 
Thy broadened and still growing mind 
Shall solve, assimilate and bind, 

And make secure. 

And it shall rare nutrition be, 
And spur, and stimulant, for thee, 

To aid thy will, 
That shall increase with thy desire. 
To this new good thou mayst aspire 
And mayst attain, to find yet higher, 

To beckon still ! 

Inspiring faith that paints the scene — 
A heaven of hills and valleys green, 

With songsters bright 
That sing responses to the call 
Of mellow murmuring waterfall ; 


And blue, benignant over all, 
A sky of light, 

Whose language is not only peace, 
But that which teaches an increase 

Of all that's heaven, 
In such gradations evermore 
As thou shalt inward from that shore 
The country of the blest explore, 

With blessing given. 

And, scanning copse and forest belt 

That through the years of heaven have felt 

The zephyrs' joy 
That sweeps the flower-scented plains 
Of that good land whose bliss explains 
Thine earthly lot, thou'lt hear the strains 

Without alloy 

That airs, and birds, and rivers sing, 
To make the elysian valleys ring 
The ages through. 


And angels of the loftiest lyre, 
In joy that thou shouldst so aspire, 
Shall wake the strings to noblest fire 
They ever knew. 

O grandeur of the land that lies 
Away somewhere beyond the skies, 

Beyond earth's dream — 
How far beyond the visible 
Imagination cannot tell, 
Howe'er intensely it may dwell 

Upon the theme ! 

Thou shalt have sail for broadest seas 
And time to solve all mysteries 

Thy search hath spied. 
Whatever thine ambition be 
Thou shalt no limitation see 
Thy time is all eternity ; 

Thy scope as wide ! 

m um%. 




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